• 


lira 


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GABORIAITS    SENSATIONAL    NOVELS. 


THE   LEROUGE  CASE. 


E  M  I  L  E     G  A  B  O  R  I  A  U, 

\\ 


AUTHOR    OF 


"FlLB   NO.    113,"    "MONSIKUR    LECOQ,"   "  IN    PERIL  OF   HlS    LlFE," 
ETC.,  ETC. 


CHICAGO   AND   NEW  YORK  : 

BELFORD,  CLARKE   &   COMPANY, 

PUBLISHERS. 


TROWS 

PRINTING  AND  BOOKBINDING  COMPANY, 
NEW  YORK. 


THE  LEROUGE  CASE. 


I. 

ON  Thursday,  the  6th  of  March,  1862,  two  days  after 
Shrove  Tuesday,  five  women  belonging  to  the  village  of 
La  Jonchere  presented  themselves  at  the  police  station,  at 
Bougival.  They  stated  that  for  two  days  past  no  one  had 
seen  the  Widow  Lerouge,  one  of  their  neighbors,  who  lived 
by  herself  in  an  isolated  cottage.  They  had  several  times 
knocked  at  the  door,  but  all  in  vain.  The  window-shutters 
as  well  as  the  door  were  closed  ;  and  it  was  impossible  to 
obtain  even  a  glimpse  of  the  interior.  This  silence,  this 
sudden  disappearance  alarmed  them.  Apprehensive  of  a 
crime,  or  at  least  of  an  accident,  they  requested  the  inter- 
ference of  the  police  to  satisfy  their  doubts  by  forcing  the 
door  and  entering  the  house. 

Bougival  is  a  pleasant  riverside  village,  peopled  on 
Sundays  by  crowds  of  boating  parties.  Trifling  offences 
are  frequently  heard  of  in  its  neighborhood,  but  crimes  are 
rare.  The  commissary  of  police  at  first  refused  to  listen  to 
tlie  women,  but  their  importunities  so  fatigued  him  that  he 
at  length  acceded  to  their  request.  He  sent  for  the  corporal 
of  gendarmes,  with  two  of  his  men,  called  into  requisition 
the  services  of  a  locksmith,  and,  thus  accompanied,  followed 
the  neighbors  of  the  Widow  Lerouge. 

La  Jonchere  owes  some  celebrity  to  the  inventor  of  the 
sliding  railway,  who  for  some  years  past  has,  with  more 
enterprise  than  profit,  made  public  trials  of  his  system  in 
the  immediate  neighborhood.  It  is  a  hamlet  of  no  import- 
ance, resting  upon  the  slope  of  the  hill  which  overlooks  the 
Seine  between  La  Malmaison  and  Bougival.  It  is  about 
twenty  minutes' walk  from  the  main  road,  which,  passi,. 


2  Till-.  L&ROUGE  (  - 

by  Rueil  and  Port-Marly,  goes  from  Paris  to  St.  (Hermain  ; 
and  is  reached  by  a  steep  and  rugged  lane,  quite  unknown 
to  the  government  engineers. 

The  party,  led  by  the  gendarmes,  followed  the  main  road 
which  here  bordered  the  river  until  it  reached  this  lane,  into 
which  it  turned,  and  stumbled  over  the  rugged  inequalities 
of  the  ground  for  about  a  hundred  yards,  when  it  arrived  in 
front  of  a  cottage  of  extremely  modest  yet  respectable 
appearance.  This  cottage  had  probably  been  built  by  some 
little  Parisian  shopkeeper  in  love  with  the  beauties  of 
nature  ;  for  all  the  trees  had  been  carefully  cut  down.  It 
consisted  merely  of  two  apartments  on  the  ground  floor  with 
a  loft  above.  Around  it  extended  a  much-neglected  garden, 
badly  protected  against  midnight  prowlers,  by  a  very 
dilapidated  stone  wall  about  three  feet  high,  and  broken 
and  crumbling  in  many  places.  A  light  wooden  gate,  clum- 
sily held  in  its  place  by  pieces  of  wire,  gave  access  to  the 
garden. 

"  It  is  here,"  said  the  women. 

The  commissary  stopped.  During  his  short  walk,  the 
number  of  his  followers  had  been  rapidly  increasing,  and 
now  included  all  the  inquisitive  and  idle  persons  of  the 
neighborhood.  He  found  himself  surrounded  by  about 
forty  individuals  burning  with  curiosity. 

"  No  one  must  enter  the  garden,"  said  he  ;  and,  to  ensure 
obedience,  he  placed  the  two  gendarmes  on  sentry  before 
the  entrance,  and  advanced  towards  the  house,  accom- 
panied by  the  corporal  and  the  locksmith. 

He  knocked  several  times  loudly  with  his  leaded  cane, 
first  at  the  door,  and  then  successively  at  all  the  window 
shutters.  After  each  blow,  he  placed  his  ear  against  the 
wood  and  listened.  Hearing  nothing,  he  turned  to  the 
locksmith. 

"  Open  !  "  said  he. 

The  workman  unstrapped  his  satchel,  and  produced  his 
implements.  He  had  already  introduced  a  skeleton  key 
into  the  lock,  when  a  loud  exclamation  was  heard  from  the 
crowd  outside  the  gate. 

"  The  key !  "  they  cried.     "  Here  is  the  key  !  " 

A  boy  about  twelve  years  old  playing  with  one  of  his 
companions,  had  seen  an  enormous  key  in  a  ditch  by  the 
roadside  ;  he  had  picked  it  up  and  carried  it  to  the  cottage 
in  triumph. 


TUK  LEKOUGK   CASK.  3 

"  Give  it  to  me  youngster,"  said  the  corporal.  "  We 
shall  see." 

The  key  was  tried,  and  it  proved  to  be  the  key  of  the 
house.  The  commissary  and  the  locksmith  exchanged 
glances  full  of  sinister  misgivings.  "  This  looks  bad," 
muttered  the  corporal.  They  entered  the  house,  while  the 
crowd,  restrained  with  difficulty  by  the  gendarmes,  stamped 
with  impatience,  or  leant  over  the  garden  wall,  stretching 
their  necks  eagerly,  to  see  or  hear  something  of  what  was 
passing  within  the  cottage. 

Those  who  anticipated  the  discovery  of  a  crime,  were 
unhappily  not  deceived.  The  commissary  was  convinced 
of  this  as  soon  as  he  crossed  the  threshold.  Everything  in 
the  first  room  pointed  with  a  sad  eloquence  to  the  recent 
presence  of  a  malefactor.  The  furniture  was  knocked  about, 
and  a  chest  of  drawers  and  two  large  trunks  had  been 
forced  and  broken  open.  In  the  inner  room,  which  served 
as  a  sleeping  apartment,  the  disorder  was  even  greater. 
It  seemed  as  though  some  furious  hand  had  taken  a  fiendish 
pleasure  in  upsetting  everything.  Near  the  fireplace,  her 
face  buried  in  the  ashes,  lay  the  dead  body  of  Widow 
Lerouge.  All  one  side  of  the  face  and  the  hair  were 
burnt ;  it  seemed  a  miracle  that  the  fire  had  not  caught 
her  clothing. 

"  W retches  !  "  exclaimed  the  corporal.  "  Could  they 
not  have  robbed,  without  assassinating  the  poor  woman  ?  " 

"  But  where  has  she  been  wounded  ?  "  inquired  the  com- 
missary, "'I  do  not  see  any  blood." 

"  Look !  here  between  the  shoulders,"  replied  the  cor- 
poral ;  two  fierce  blows,  by  my  faith.  I'll  wager  my  stripes 
she  had  no  time  to  cry  out." 

He  stooped  over  the  corpse  and  touched  it.  "  She  is 
quite  cold,"  he  continued,  "  and  it  seems  to  me  that  she  is 
no  longer  very  stiff.  It  is  at  least  thirty-six  hours  since  she 
received  her  death-blow." 

The  commissary  began  writing,  on  the  corner  of  a  table, 
a  short  official  report.  "We  are  not  here  to  talk,  but  to 
discover  the  guilty,"  said  he  to  the  corporal.  "  Let  infor- 
mation be  at  once  conveyed  to  the  justice  of  the  peace,  and 
the  mayor,  and  send  this  letter  without  delay  to  the  Palais 
de  Justice.  In  a  couple  of  hours,  an  investigating  magis- 
trate can  be  here.  In  the  meanwhile,  I  will  proceed  to 
make  a  preliminary  inquiry." 


4  THE  LEROUGE  CASE. 

"Shall  1  carry  the  letter?"  asked  the  corporal  of  gen- 
darmes. 

"  No,  send  one  of  your  men  ;  you  will  be  useful  to  me 
heie  in  keeping  these  people  in  order,  and  in  finding  any 
witnesses  I  may  want.  We  must  leave  everything  here 
as  it  is.  I  will  install  myself  in  the  other  room." 

A  gendarme  departed  at  a  run  towards  the  station  at 
Rueil ,  and  the  commissaiy  commenced  his  investigations 
in  regular  form,  as  prescribed  by  law. 

"  Who  was  Widow  Lerouge  ?  Where  did  she  come  from  ? 
What  did  she  do  ?  Upon  what  means,  and  how  did  she 
live?  What  were  her  habits,  her  morals,  and  what  sort  of 
company  did  she  keep  ?  Was  she  known  to  have  enemies  ? 
Was  she  a  miser?  Did  she  pass  for  being  rich?"  The 
commissary  knew  the  importance  of  ascertaining  all  this  : 
but  although  the  witnesses  were  numerous  enough,  they 
possessed  but  little  information.  The  depositions  of  the 
neighbours,  successively  interrogated,  were  empty,  incoher- 
ent, and  incomplete.  No  one  knew  anything  of  the  victim, 
who  was  a  stranger  in  the  country.  Many  presented  them- 
selves as  witnesses  moreover,  who  came  forward  less  to 
afford  information  than  to  gratify  their  curiosity.  A  gar- 
dener's wife,  who  had  been  friendly  with  the  deceased,  and 
a  milkwoman  with  whom  she  dealt,  were  alone  able  to  give 
a  few  insignificant  though  precise  details.  In  a  word, 
after  three  hours  of  laborious  investigation,  after  having 
undergone  the  infliction  of  all  the  gossip  of  the  country, 
after  receiving  evidence  the  most  contradictory,  and  list- 
ened to  commentaries  the  most  ridiculous,  the  following  is 
what  appeared  the  the  most  reliable  to  the  commis- 
sary. 

Twelve  years  before,  at  the  beginning  of  1850,  the 
woman  Lerouge  had  made  her  appearance  at  Bougival  with 
a  large  wagon  piled  with  furniture,  linen,  and  her  personal 
effects.  She  had  alighted  at  an  inn,  declaring  her  inten- 
tion of  settling  in  the  neighbourhood,  and  had  immediately 
gone  in  quest  of  a  house.  Finding  this  one  unoccupied', 
and  thinking  it  Would  suit  her,  she  had  taken  it  without 
trying  to  beat  down  the  terms,  at  a  rental  of  three  hundred 
and  twenty  francs  payable  half  yearly  and  in  advance,  but 
had  refused  to  sign  a  iease.  The  house  taken,  she  occupied 
it  the  same  day,  and  expended  about  a  hundred  francs 
on  repairs. 


THE  LEKOUGE  CASK.  5 

She  was  a  woman  about  fifty-four  or  fifty-five  years  of 
age,  well  preserved,  active,  and  in  the  enjoyment  of  excel- 
lent health.  No  one  knew  her  reasons  for  taking  up  her 
abode  in  a  country  where  she  was  an  absolute  stranger. 
She  was  supposed  to  have  come  from  Normandy,  having 
been  frequently  seen  in  the  early  morning  to  wear  a  white  cot 
ton  cap.  This  night-cap  did  not  prevent  her  dressing  very 
smartly  during  the  day  ;  indeed,  she  ordinarily  wore  very 
handsome  dresses,  very  showy  ribbons  in  her  caps,  and 
covered  herself  with  jewels  like  a  saint  in  a  chapel.  With- 
out doubt  she  lived  on  the  coast,  for  ships  and  the  sea  re* 
curred  incessantly  in  her  conversation. 

She  did  not  like  speaking  of  her  husband  who  had,  she 
said,  perished  in  a  shipwreck.  But  she  had  never  given 
the  slightest  detail.  On  one  particular  occasion  she  had 
remarked,  in  presence  of  the  milk-woman  and  three  other 
persons,  "  No  woman  was  ever  more  miserable  than  I  dur- 
ing my  married  life."  And  at  another  she  had  said,  "  All 
new,  all  fine  !  My  defunct  husband  only  loved  me  for  a 
year !  " 

Widow  Lerouge  passed  for  rich,  or  at  the  least  for  being 
very  well  off  and  she  was  not  a  miser.  She  had  lent  a 
woman  at  La  Malmaison  sixty  francs  with  which  to  pay  her 
rent,  and  would  not  let  her  return  them.  At  another 
time  she  had  advanced  two  hundred  francs  to  a  fisherman  of 
Port-Marly.  She  was  fond  of  good  living,  spent  a  good 
deal  on  her  food,  and  bought  wine  by  the  half  cask.  She 
took  pleasure  in  treating  her  acquaintances,  and  her  din- 
ners were  excellent.  If  complimented  on  her  easy  circum- 
stances, she  made  no  very  strong  denial.  She  had  fre- 
quently been  heard  to  say,  "  I  have  nothing  in  the  funds, 
but  I  have  everything  I  want.  If  I  wished  for  more,  I 
could  have  it." 

Beyond  this,  the  slightest  allusion  to  her  past  life,  her 
country,  or  her  family  had  never  escaped  her.  She  was 
very  talkative,  but  all  she  would  say  would  be  to  the  detri- 
ment of  her  neighbours.  She  was  supposed,  however,  to 
have  seen  the  world,  and  to  know  a  great  deal.  She  was 
very  distrustful  and  barricaded  herself  in  her  cottage  as  in 
a  fortress.  She  never  went  out  in  the  evening,  and  it  was 
well  known  that  she  got  tipsy  regularly  at  her  dinner  and 
went  to  bed  very  soon  afterwards.  Rarely  had  strangers 
been  seen  to  visit  her ,  four  or  five  times  a  lady  accompa- 


6  THE  LEROL'CE  CASE. 

nied  by  a  young  man  had  called,  and  upon  one  occasion  two 
gentlemen,  one  young,  the  other  old  and  decorated,  had 
come  in  a  magnificent  carriage. 

In  conclusion,  the  deceased  was  held  in  but  little  esteem 
by  her  neighbours.  Her  remarks  were  often  most  offensive 
and  odious  in  the  mouth  of  a  woman  of  her  age.  She  had 
been  heard  to  give  a  young  girl  the  most  detestable  coun- 
sels. A  pork  butcher,  belonging  to  Bougival,  embarrassed 
in  his  business,  and  tempted  by  her  supposed  wealth,  had 
at  one  time  paid  her  his  addresses.  She,  however,  repelled 
his  advances,  declaring  that  to  be  married  once  was 
enough  for  her.  On  several  occasions  men  had  been  seen 
in  her  house  :  first  of  all,  a  young  one,  who  had  the  appear- 
ance of  a  clerk  of  the  railway  company :  then  another,  a 
tall,  elderly  man,  very  sunburnt,  who  was  dressed  in  a 
blouse,  and  looked  very  villanous.  These  men  were  re- 
ported to  be  her  lovers. 

Whilst  questioning  the  witnesses,  the  commissary  wrote 
down  their  depositions  in  a  more  condensed  form,  and  he 
had  got  so  far,  when  the  investigating  magistrate  arrived, 
attended  by  the  chief  of  the  detective  police,  and  one  of 
his  subordinates.  M.  Daburon  was  a  man  thirty-eight  years 
of  age,  and  of  prepossessing  appearance ;  sympathetic  not- 
withstanding his  coldness  ;  wearing  upon  his  countenance  a 
sweet,  and  rather  sad  expression.  This  settled  melancholy 
had  remained  with  him  ever  since  his  recovery,  two  years 
before,  from  a  dreadful  malady,  which  had  well-nigh  proved 
fatal.  Investigating  magistrate  since  1859,  he  had  rap- 
idly acquired  the  most  brilliant  reputation.  Laborious, 
patient,  and  acute,  he  knew  with  singular  skill  how  to 
disentangle  the  skein  of  the  most  complicated  affair, 
and  from  the  midst  of  a  thousand  threads  lay  hold  of 
the  right  one.  None  better  than  he,  armed  with  an  im- 
placable logic,  could  solve  those  terrible  problems  in  which 
X  represents  the  criminal.  Clever  in  deducing  the  un- 
known from  the  known,  he  excelled  in  collecting  facts, 
and  in  uniting  in  a  bundle  of  overwhelming  proofs  circum- 
stances the  most  trifling,  and  in  appearance  the  most 
insignificant. 

Although  possessed  of  qualifications  for  his  office  so 
numerous  and  valuable,  he  was  tremblingly  distrustful  of 
his  own  abilities  and  exercised  his  terrible  functions  with 
diffidence  and  hesitation.  He  wanted  audacity  to  risk  those 


THE  I.EKOL'UE  CASE.  7 

sudden  surprises  so  often  resorted  toby  his  colleagues  in  the 
pursuit  of  truth.  Thus  it  was  repugnant  to  his  feelings  to 
deceive  even  an  accused  person,  or  to  lay  snares  for  him : 
in  fact  the  mere  idea  of  the  possibility  of  a  judicial  error 
terrified  him.  They  said  of  him  in  the  courts,  "  He  is  a 
trembler."  What  he  sought  was  not  conviction,  nor  the 
most  probable  presumptions,  but  the  most  absolute  certainty. 
No  rest  for  him  until  the  day  when  the  accused  was  forced 
to  bow  before  the  evidence ;  so  much  so  that  he  had  been 
jestingly  reproached  with  seeking  not  to  discover  criminals 
but  innocents. 

The  chief  of  detective  police  was  none  other  than  the 
celebrated  Gevrol.  He  is  really  an  able  man,  but  wanting 
in  perseverance,  and  liable  to  be  blinded  by  an  incredible 
obstinacy.  If  he  loses  a  clue,  he  cannot  bring  himself  to 
acknowledge  it,  still  less  to  retrace  his  steps.  His  audacity 
and  coolness,  however,  render  it  impossible  to  disconcert 
him  ;  and  being  possessed  of  immense  personal  strength, 
hidden  under  a  most  meagre  appearance,  he  has  never 
hesitated  to  confront  the  most  daring  of  -male  actors. 
But  his  specialty,  his  triumph,  his  glory,  is  a  memory  of 
faces,  so  prodigious  as  to  exceed  belief.  Let  him  see  a 
face  for  five  minutes,  and  it  is  enough.  Its  possessor  is 
catalogued,  and  will  be  recognised  at  any  time.  The 
impossibilities  of  place,  the  unlikelihood  of  circumstances, 
the  most  incredible  disguises  will  not  lead  him  astray. 
The  reason  for  this,  so  he  pretends,  is  because  he  only 
looks  at  a  man's  eyes,  without  noticing  any  other  features. 
This  faculty  was  severely  tested  some  months  back  at 
Poissy,  by  the  following  experiment.  Three  prisoners 
were  draped  in  coverings  so  as  to  completely  disguise  their 
height.  Over  their  faces  were  thick  veils,  allowing  nothing 
of  the  features  to  be  seen  except  the  eyes,  for  which  holes 
had  been  made  ;  and  in  this  state  they  were  shown  to 
Gevrol.  Without  the  slightest  hesitation  he  recognised 
the  prisoners  and  named  them.  Had  chance  alone  assisted 
him  ? 

The  subordinate  Gevrol  had  brought  with  him,  was  an 
old  offender,  reconciled  to  the  law.  A  smart  fellow  in  his 
profession,  crafty  as  a  fox,  and  jealous  of  his  chief,  whose 
abilities  he  held  in  light  estimation.  His  name  was  Lecoq. 

The  commissary,  by  this  time  heartily  lired  of  his  responsi- 
bilities, welcomed  the  investigating  magistrate  and  l-,i> 


8  yyy/s  L^&ROUGE  SASE. 

agents  as  liberators.  He  rapidly  related  the  facts  collected 
and  read  his  official  report. 

"You  have  proceeded  very  well,"  observed  the  investiga- 
ting magistrate.  "All  is  stated  clearly ;  yet  there  is  one 
fact  you  have  omitted  to  ascertain." 

"  What  is  that,  sir  ?  "  inquired  the  commissary. 

"  On  what  day  was  Widow  Lerouge  last  seen,  and  at  what 
hour  ? " 

"  I  was  coming  to  that  presently.  She  was  last  seen 
and  spoken  to  on  the  evening  of  Shrove  Tuesday,  at  twenty 
minutes  past  five.  She  was  then  returning  from  Botigival 
with  a  basketful  of  purchases." 

"  You  are  sure  of  the  hour,  sir  ?  "  inquired  Gevrol. 

"  Perfectly,  and  for  this  reason ;  the  two  witnesses  who 
furnished  me  with  this  fact,  a  woman  named  Tellier  and  a 
cooper  who  lives  hard  by,  alighted  from  the  omnibus  which 
leaves  Marly  every  hour,  when  they  perceived  the  widow 
in  the  cross-road,  and  hastend  to  overtake  her.  They 
conversed  with  her  and  only  left  her  when  they  reached 
the  door  of  her  own  house." 

"  And  what  had  she  in  her  basket  ? "  asked  the  investiga- 
ting magistrate. 

"  The  witnesses  cannot  say.  They  only  know  that  she 
carried  two  sealed  bottles  of  wine,  and  another  of  brandy. 
She  complained  to  them  of  headache,  and  said,  "  Though 
it  is  customary  to  enjoy  oneself  on  Shrove  Tuesday,  I  am 
going  to  bed.'  " 

"  So,  so ! "  exclaimed  the  chief  of  detective  police. 
"  I  know  where  to  search  !  " 

"  You  think  so  ? "  inquire  M.  Daburon. 

"  Why,  it  is  clear  enough,  We  must  find  the  tall  sun- 
burnt man,  the  gallant  in  the  blouse.  The  brandy  and 
the  wine  were  intended  for  his  entertainment.  The  widow 
expected  him  to  supper.  He  came,  sure  enough,  the 
amiable  gallant !  " 

"  Oh  ! "  cried  the  corporal  of  gendarmes,  evidently 
scandalised,  "  she  was  very  old,  and  terribly  ugly !  " 

Gevrol  surveyed  the  honest  fellow  with  an  expression  of 
contemptuous  pity.  "  Know,  corporal,"  said  he,  "  that  a 
woman  who  has  money  is  always  young  and  pretty,  if  she 
desires  to  be  thought  so  !  " 

"  Perhaps  there  is  something  in  that,"  remarked  the 
magistrate  ;  "  but  it  is  not  what  strikes  me  most.  I  am 


THE  LEROUGE  CASE.  9 

more  impressed  by  the  remark  of  this  unfortunate  woman. 
If  I  wished  for  more,  I  could  have  it.  ' ' 

"  That  also  attracted  my  attention,"  acquiesced  the 
commissary. 

But  Gevrol  no  longer  took  the  trouble  to  listen.  He 
stuck  to  his  own  opinion,  and  began  to  inspect  minutely 
every  corner  of  the  room.  Suddenly  he  turned  towards 
the  commissary.  "Now  that  1  think  of  it,"  cried  he,  "  was 
it  not  on  Tuesday  that  the  weather  changed  ?  It  had  been 
freezing  for  a  fortnight  past,  and  on  that  evening  it  rained. 
At  what  time  did  the  rain  commence  here  ? " 

" At  half-past  nine,"  answered  the  corporal.  "I  went 
out  from  supper  to  make  my  circuit  of  the  dancing  halls, 
when  I  was  overtaken  opposite  the  Rue  des  Pecheurs  by  a 
heavy  shower.  In  less  than  ten  minutes  there  was  half 
an  inch  of  water  in  the  road." 

"Very  well,"  said  Gevrol.  "Then  if  the  man  came 
after  half-past  nine  his  shoes  must  have  been  very  muddy. 
If  they  were  dry,  he  arrived  sooner.  This  must  have  been 
noticed,  for  the  floor  is  a  polished  one.  Were  there  any 
imprints  of  footsteps,  Mr.  Commissary,?  " 

"  I  must  confess  we  never  thought  of  looking  for 
them." 

"  Ah  !  "  exclaimed  the  chief  detective,  in  a  tone  of  irrita- 
tion, "  that  is  vexatious  !  " 

"  Wait,"  added  the  commissary ;  "  there  is  yet  time  to  see 
if  there  are  any,  not  in  this  room,  but  in  the  other.  We 
have  disturbed  absolutely  nothing  there.  My  footsteps 
and  the  corporal's  will  be  easily  distinguished.  Let  us 
see." 

As  the  commissary  opened  the  door  of  the  second  cham- 
ber, Gevrol  stopped  him.  "  I  ask  permission,  sir,"  said  he 
to  the  investigating  magistrate,  "  to  examine  the  apartment 
before  any  one  else  is  permitted  to  enter.  It  is  very  im- 
portant for  me." 

"  Certainly,"  approved  M.  Daburon. 

Gevrol  passed  in  first,  the  others  remaining  on  the 
threshold.  They  all  took  in  at  a  glance  the  scene  of  the 
crime.  Everything,  as  the  commissary  had  stated,  seemed 
to  have  been  overturned  by  some  furious  madman.  In 
the  middle  of  the  room  was  a  table  covered  with  a  fine 
linen  cloth,  while  as  snow.  Upon  this  was  placed  a  mag- 
nificent wineglass  of  tho  rarest  manufacture,  a  very  hand- 


I.I'.KOL'UK  CASE. 

some  knife,  and  a  plate  of  the  finest  porcelain.  There 
was  an  opened  bottle  of  wine,  hardly  touched,  and  anotiier 
of  brandy,  from  which  about  five  or  six  small  glassfuls  had 
been  taken.  On  the  right,  against  the  wall,  stood  two 
handsome  walnut-wood  wardrobes,  with  ornamental  locks ; 
they  were  placed  one  on  each  side  of  the  window;  both 
were  empty,  and  the  contents  scattered  about  on  all  sides. 
There  were  clothing,  linen,  and  other  effects  unfolded, 
tossed  about,  and  crumpled.  At  the  end  of  the  room, 
near  the  fireplace,  a  large  cupboard  used  for  keeping  the 
crockery  was  wide  open.  On  the  other  side  of  the  fire- 
place, an  old  secretary  with  a  marble  top  had  been  forced, 
broken,  smashed  into  bits,  and  rummaged,  no  doubt,  to  its 
inmost  recesses.  The  desk,  wrenched  away,  hung  by  a 
single  hinge.  The  drawers  had  been  pulled  out  and 
thrown  upon  the  floor.  To  the  left  of  the  room  stood  the 
bed,  which  had  been  completely  disarranged  and  upset. 
Even  the  straw  of  the  mattress  had  been  pulled  out  and 
examined. 

"  Not  the  slightest  imprint,"  murmured  Gevrol  disap- 
pointed. "  He  must  have  arrived  before  half-past  nine. 
You  can  all  come  in  now." 

He  walked  right  up  to  the  corpse  of  the  widow,  near 
which  he  knelt.  "  It  can  not  be  said,"  grumbled  he, 
"  that  the  work  is  not  properly  done  !  the  assassin  is  no 
apprentice  !  "  Then  looking  right  and  left,  he  continued  : 
"  Oh  !  oh  !  the  poor  devil  was  busy  with  her  cooking  when 
he  struck  her;  see  her  pan  of  ham  and  eggs  upon  the 
hearth.  The  brute  hadn't  patience  enough  to  wait  for 
the  dinner.  The  gentleman  was  in  a  hurry,  he  struck  the 
blow  fasting ;  therefore  he  can't  invoke  the  gayety  of  des- 
sert in  his  defense  !  " 

"  It  is  evident,"  said  the  commissary  to  the  investigat- 
ing magistrate,  "  that  robbery  was  the  motive  of  the 
crime." 

"  It  is  probable,"  answered  Gevrol  in  a  sly  way ;  "  and 
that  accounts  for  the  absence  of  the  silver  spoons  from  the 
table." 

"  Look  here  !  Some  pieces  of  gold  in  this  drawer !  " 
exclaimed  Lecoq,  who  had  been  searching  on  his  own  ac- 
count, "  just  three  hundred  and  twenty  francs  !  " 

"  Well,  I  never ! "  cried  Gevrol,  a  little  disconcerted. 
But  he  soon  recovered  from  his  embarrassment,  and 


yy/A  LEROUGE  CASK.  ii 

added  :  "  He  must  have  forgotten  them  ;  that  often  hap- 
pens. I  have  known  an  assassin,  who,  after  accomplishing 
the  murder,  became  so  utterly  bewildered  as  to  depart 
without  remembering  to  take  the  plunder,  for  which  he 
had  committed  the  crime.  Our  man  became  excited  per- 
haps, or  was  interrupted.  Some  one  may  have  knocked 
at  the  door.  What  makes  me  more  willing  to  think  so  is, 
that  the  scamp  did  not  leave  the  candle  burning.  You  see 
he  took  the  trouble  to  put  it  out." 

"  Pooh  !  "  said  Lecoq.  "  That  proves  nothing.  He  is 
probably  an  economical  and  careful  man." 

The  investigations  of  the  two  agents  were  continued  all 
over  the  house  ;  but  their  most  minute  researches  resulted 
in  discovering  absolutely  nothing ;  not  one  piece  of  evi- 
dence to  convict ;  not  the  faintest  indication  which  might 
serve  as  a  point  of  departure.  Even  the  dead  woman's 
papers,  if  she  possessed  any,  had  disappeared.  Not  a  let- 
ter, not  a  scrap  of  paper  even,  to  be  met  with.  From  time 
to  time  Gevrol  stopped  to  swear  or  grumble.  "  Oh  !  it  is 
cleverly  done  !  It  is  a  tiptop  piece  of  -work  !  The  scoun- 
drel is  a  cool  hand  !  " 

"  Well,  what  do  you  make  of  it  ?  "  at  length  demanded 
the  investigating  magistrate. 

"  It  is  a  drawn  game  monsieur,"  replied  Gevrol.  "  We 
are  baffled  for  the  present.  The  miscreant  has  taken  his 
measures  with  great  precaution ;  but  I  will  catch  him. 
Before  night,  I  shall  have  a  dozen  men  in  pursuit.  Be- 
sides, he  is  sure  to  fall  into  our  hands.  He  has  carried 
off  the  plate  and  the  jewels.  He  is  lost !  " 

"Despite  all  that,"  said  M.  Daburon,  "we  are  no  fur- 
ther advanced  than  we  were  this  morning  !  " 

"  Well !  "  growled  Gevrol.  "  A.  man  can  only  do  what 
he  can  !  " 

"  Ah  ! "  murmured  Lecoq  in  a  low  tone,  perfectly  audi- 
ble, however,  "  why  is  not  old  Tirauclair  here  ?  " 

"  What  could  he  do  more  than  we  have  done  ?  " 
retorted  Gevrol,  directing  a  furious  glance  at  his  subordi- 
nate. Lecoq  bowed  his  head  and  was  silent,  inwardly 
delighted  at  having  wounded  his  chief. 

"  Who  is  old  Tirauclair  ?  "  asked  M.  Daburon.  "  It 
seems  to  me  that  I  have  heard  the  name,  but  I  can't  re- 
member where. 

"  He  is  an  extraordinary  man  !  "  exclaimed  Lecoq. 


12  TllK  I.KROUGK  CASE. 

"  He  was  formerly  a  clerk  at  the  Mont  de  Piete,"  added 
Gevrol ;  "  but  he  is  now  a  rich  old  fellow,  whose  real 
name  is  Tabaret.  He  goes  in  for  playing  the  detective  by 
way  of  amusement." 

"  And  to  augment  his  revenues,"  insinuated  the  commis- 
sary. 

"  He  ?  "  cried  Lecoq.  "  No  danger  of  that.  He  works 
so  much  for  the  glory  of  success  that  he  often  spends 
money  from  his  own  pocket.  It's  his  amusement,  you  see  ! 
At  the  Prefecture  we  have  nicknamed  him  '  Tirauclair,' 
from  a  phrase  he  is  constantly  in  the  habit  of  repeating. 
Ah  !  he  is  sharp,  the  old  weasel !  It  was  he  who  in  the 
case  of  that  banker's  wife,  you  remember,  guessed  that 
the  lady  had  robbed  herself,  and  who  proved  it." 

"  True  !  "  retorted  GevroJ ;  "  and  it  was  also  he  who  al- 
most had  poor  Dereme  guillotined  for  killing  his  wife,  a 
thorough  bad  woman ;  and  all  the  while  the  poor  man  was 
innocent." 

"  We  are  wasting  our  time,  gentlemen,"  interrupted  M. 
Paburon.  Then,  addressing  himself  to  Lecoq,  he  added  : 
— "  Go  and  find  M.  Tabaret.  I  have  heard  a  great  deal 
of  him,  and  shall  be  glad  to  see  him  at  work  here." 

Lecoq  started  off  at  a  run.  Gevrol  was  seriously 
humiliated.  "  You  have  of  course,  sir,  the  right  to 
demand  the  services  of  whom  you  please,"  commenced  he, 
'•  but  yet—" 

"  Do  not,"  interrupted  M.  Daburon,  "  let  us  lose  our 
tempers,  M.  Gevrol.  I  have  known  you  for  a  long  lime, 
and  I  know  your  worth  ;  but  to-day  we  happen  to  differ  in 
opinion.  You  hold  absolutely  lo  your  sun-burnt  man  in 
the  blouse,  and  I,  on  my  side,  am  convinced  that  you  are 
not  on  the  right  track  !  " 

"  I  think  I  am  right,"  replied  the  detective,  "  and  1  hope 
to  prove  it.  I  shall  find  the  scoundrel,  be  he  whom  he 
may  !  " 

"  I  ask  nothing  better,"  said  M.  Daburon. 

"  Only,  permit  me,  sir,  to  give — what  shall  I  say  with- 
out failing  in  respect  : — a  piece  of  advice  ?  " 

"  Speak  ! " 

"  I  would  advise  you,  sir,  to  distrust  old  Tabaret." 

"  Really  ?     And  for  what  reason  ?  " 

"  The  old  fellow  allows  himself  to  be  carried  away  too 
much  by  appearances.  He  has  become  an  amateur  detec- 


THE  LEROUGE  CASK.  13 

tive  for  the  sake  of  popularity,  just  like  an  author;  and, 
as  he  is  vainer  than  a  peacock,  he  is  apt  to  lose  his  tempei 
and  be  very  obstinate.  As  soon  as  he  finds  himself  in 
the  presence  of  a  crime,  like  this  one,  for  example,  he  pre- 
tends he  can  explain  everything  on  the  instant.  And  he 
manages  to  invent  a  story  that  will  correspond  exactly  with 
the  situation.  He  professes,  with  the  help  of  one  single 
fact,  to  be  able  to  reconstruct  all  the  details  of  an  assassina- 
tion, as  a  savant  pictures  an  antediluvian  animal  from  a 
single  bone.  Sometimes  he  divines  correctly  ;  very  often, 
though,  he  makes  a  mistake.  Take,  for  instance,  the 
case  of  the  tailor,  the  unfortunate  Dereme,  without 
me— 

"  I  thank  you  for  your  advice,"  interrupted  M.  Dabu- 
ron,  "  and  will  profit  by  it.  Now  commissary,"  he  con- 
tinued, "  it  is  most  important  to  ascertain  from  what  part 
of  the  country  Widow  Lerouge  came." 

The  procession  of  witnesses  under  the  charge  of  the 
corporal  of  gendarmes  were  again  interrogated  by  the  in- 
vestigating magistrate.  But  nothing  new  was  elicited.  It 
was  evident  that  Widow  Lerouge  had  been  a  singularly 
discreet  woman  ;  for,  although  very  talkative,  nothing  in 
any  way  connected  with  her  antecedents  remained  in  the 
memory  of  the  gossips  of  La  Jonchere.  All  the  people 
interrogated,  however,  obstinately  tried  to  impart  to  the 
magistrate  their  own  convictions  and  personal  conjectures. 
Public  opinion  sided  with  Gevrol.  Every  voice  denounced 
the  tall  sunburnt  man  with  the  gray  blouse.  He  must 
surely  be  the  culprit.  Everyone  remembered  his  ferocious 
aspect,  which  had  frightened  the  whole  neighborhood.  He 
had  one  evening  menaced  a  woman,  and  another  day 
b'^iten  a  child.  They  could  point  out  neither  the  child  nor 
the  woman  ;  but  no  matter :  these  brutal  acts  were  notori- 
ously public.  M.  Daburon  began  to  despair  of  gaining 
the  least  enlightenment,  when  some  one  brought  the  wife 
of  a  grocer  of  Bougival,  at  whose  shop  the  victim  used  to 
deal,  and  a  child  thirteen  years  old,  who  knew,  it  was  said, 
something  positive. 

The  grocer's  wife  first  made  her  appearance.  She  had 
heard  Widow  Lerouge  speak  of  having  a  son  still  living. 

"  Are  you  quite  sure  of  that  ?"  asked  the  investigating 
magistrate. 

••  \s  of  my  existence,"  answered  the  woman,  "  for,  on  that 


I4  THE  LEROCGE  CASE. 

evening,  yes,  it  was  evening,  she  was,  saving  your  presence, 
a  little  tipsy.  She  remained  in  my  shop  more  than  an 
hour." 

"And  what  did  she  say  ?  " 

"  I  think  I  see  her  now,"  continued  the  shopkeeper : 
"  she  was  leaning  against  the  counter  near  the  scales,  jest- 
ing with  a  fisherman  of  Marly,  old  Husson,  who  can  tell 
you  the  same ;  and  she  called  him  a  fresh  water  sailor, 
'  My  husband,'  said  she,  '  was  a  real  sailor,  and  the  proof 
is,  he  would  sometimes  remain  years  on  a  voyage,  and 
always  used  to  bring  me  back  cocoa-nuts.  I  have  a  son 
who  is  also  a  sailor,  like  his  dead  father,  in  the  imperial 
navy.'  " 

"  Did  she  mention  her  son's  name  ?" 

"  Not  that  time,  but  another  evening,  when  she  was,  if  I 
may  say  so,  very  drunk.  She  told  us  that  her  son's  name 
was  Jacques,  and  that  she  had  not  seen  him  for  a  very 
long  time." 

"  Did  she  speak  ill  of  her  husband  ?  " 

'•Never!  She  only  said  he  was  jealous  and  brutal, 
though  a  good  man  at  bottom,  and  that  he  led  her  a  miserable 
life.  He  was  weak-headed,  and  forged  ideas  out  of  noth- 
ing at  all.  In  fact  he  was  too  honest  to  be  wise." 

"  Did  her  son  ever  come  to  see  her  while  she  lived 
here  ?  " 

"  She  never  told  me  of  it." 

"  Did  she  spend  much  money  with  you  ?  " 

"  That  depends.  About  sixty  francs  a  month  ;  some- 
times more,  for  she  always  buys  the  best  brandy.  She 
paid  cash  for  all  she  bought." 

The  woman  knowing  no  more  was  dismissed.  The 
child,  who  was  now  brought  forward,  belonged  to  parents 
in  easy  circumstances.  Tall  and  strong  for  his  age,  he 
had  bright  intelligent  eyes,  and  features  expressive  of 
watchfulness  and  cunning.  The  presence  of  the  magis- 
trate did  not  seem  to  intimidate  him  in  the  least. 

"  Let  us  hear,  my  boy,"  said  M.  Daburon,  "what  you 
know." 

"  Well,  sir,  a  few  days  ago,  on  Sunday  last,  I  saw  a  man 
at  Madame  Lerouge's  garden-gate." 

"  At  what  time  of  the  day  ?  " 

"Early  in  the  morning.  I  was  going  to  church,  to 
serve  in  the  second  mass." 


THE  LEROUGE  CASE.  i$ 

"  Well,"  continued  the  magistrate,  "  and  this  man  was 
tall  and  sunburnt,  and  dressed  in  a  blouse  ?  " 

"No,  sir,. on  the  contrary,  he  was  short,  very  fat,  and 
old." 

"  You  are  sure  you  are  not  mistaken  ?  " 

"  Quite  sure,"  replied  the  urchin,"  "  I  saw  him  close 
face  to  face,  for  I  spoke  to  him." 

"  Tell  me,  then,  what  occured  ?  " 

"  Well,  sir,  I  was  passing  when  I  saw  this  fat  man  at  the 
gate.  He  appeared  very  much  vexed,  oh  !  but  awfully 
vexed !  His  face  was  red,  or  rather  purple,  as  far  as  the 
middle  of  his  head,  which  I  could  see  very  well,  for  it  was 
bare,  and  had  very  little  hair  on  it." 

"  And  did  he  speak  to  you  first  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  he  saw  me,  and  called  out,  '  Halloa !  young- 
ster !  '  as  I  came  up  to  him,  and  he  asked  me  if  I  had  got  a 
good  pair  of  legs  ?  I  answered  yes.  Then  he  took  me  by 
the  ear,  but  without  hurting  me,  and  said, '  Since  that  is  so,  if 
you  v.  ill  run  an  errand  for  me,  I  will  give  you  ten  sous. 
Run  as  far  as  the  Seine  ;  and  when  you  reach  the  quay,  you 
will  notice  a  large  boat  moored.  Go  on  board,  and  ask  to 
see  Captain  Gervais  :  he  is  sure  to  be  there.  Tell  him  that 
he  can  prepare  to  leave,  that  I  am  ready.'  Then  he  put 
ten  sous  in  my  hand  ;  and  off  I  went." 

"  If  all  the  witnesses  were  like  this  bright  little  fellow," 
murmured  the  commissary,  "  what  a  pleasure  it  would  be  !  " 

"  Now,''  said  the  magistrate,  "  tell  us  how  you  executed 
your  commission  ?  " 

"  I  went  to  the  boat,  sir,  found  the  man,  and  I  told  him  ; 
and  that's  all." 

Gevrol,  who  had  listened  with  the  most  lively  attention, 
leaned  over  towards  the  ear  of  M.  Daburon,  and  said  in  a 
low  voice  :  "  Will  you  permit  me,  sir,  to  ask  the  brat  a  few 
questions  ?  " 

"Certainly,  M.  Gevrol." 

"  Come  now,  my  little  friend,"  said  Gevrol,  "  if  you  saw 
this  man  again,  would  you  know  him  ? " 

"  Oh,  yes  !  " 

"  Then  there  was  something  remarkable  about  him  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  should  think  so  !  his  face  was  the  colour  of  a 
brick?" 

"  And  is  that  all  ?  " 

"  Well,  yes,  sir." 


16  THE  LEROUGE  CASE. 

"  But  you  must  remember  how  he  was  dressed  ;  had  he  a 
blouse  on  ? " 

"  No ;  he  wore  a  jacket.  Under  the  arms  were  very 
large  pockets,  and  from  out  of  one  of  them  peeped  a  blue 
spotted  handkerchief." 

"  What  kind  of  trousers  had  he  on  ? " 

"  I  do  not  remember." 

"  And  his  waistcoat  ?  " 

"  Let  me  see,"  answered  the.  child.  "  I  don't  think  he 
wore  a  waistcoat.  And  yet, — but  no,  I  remember  he  did 
not  wear  one  ;  he  had  a  long  cravat,  fastened  near  his  neck 
by  a  large  ring." 

"Ah!  "said  Gevro',  with  an  air  of  satisfaction,  "you 
are  a  bright  boy ;  and  I  wager  that  if  you  try  hard  to  re- 
member you  will  find  a  few  more  details  to  give  us." 

The  boy  hung  down  his  head,  and  remained  silent. 
From  the  knitting  of  his  young  brows,  it  was  plain  he  was 
making  a  violent  effort  of  memory.  "  Yes,"  cried  he  sud- 
denly, "  I  remember  another  thing." 

"  What  ? " 

"  The  man  wore  very  large  rings  in  his  ears." 

"  Bravo  !  "  cried  Gevrol,  "  here  is  a  complete  description. 
I  shall  find  the  fellow  now.  M.  Daburon  can  prepare  a 
warrant  for  his  appearance  whenever  he  likes." 

"  I  believe,  indeed,  the  testimony  of  this  child  is  of  the 
highest  importance,"  said  M.  Daburon  ;  and  turning  to 
the  boy  added,  "  Can  you  tell  us,  my  little  friend,  with 
what  this  boat  was  loaded  ?  " 

"  No,  sir,  I  couldn't  see  because  it  was  decked." 

"  Which  way  was  she  going,  up  the  Seine  or  down  ?  " 

"  Neither,  sir,  she  was  moored." 

"We  know  that,"  said  Gevrol.  "The  magistrate  asks 
you  which  way  the  prow  of  the  boat  was  turned, — towards 
Paris  or  towards  Marly  ?" 

"  The  two  ends  of  the  boat  seemed  alike  to  me." 

The  chief  of  the  detective  of  police  made  a  gesture  of 
of  disappointment. 

"  At  least,"  said  he,  addressing  the  child  again,  "  you 
noticed  the  name  of  the  boat  ?  you  can  read  I  suppose. 
One  should  always  know  the  names  of  the  boats  one  goes 
aboard  of." 

"  No,  I  didn't  see  any  name,"  said  the  little  boy. 

"  If  this  boat  was  moored  at  the  quay,"  remarked  M. 


THE  LE ROUGE  CASE.  17 

Daburon,  "  it  was  probably  noticed  by  the  inhabitants  of 
Bougival." 

"  That  is  true,  sir,"  approved  the  commissary. 

"  Yes,"  said  Gevrol,  "  and  the  sailors  must  have  come 
ashore.  I  shall  find  out  all  about  it  at  the  wine  shop. 
But  what  sort  of  a  man  was  Gervais,  the  master,  my  little 
friend  ? " 

"  Like  all  the  sailors  hereabouts,  sir." 

The  child  was  preparing  to  depart  when  M.  Daburon 
recalled  him. 

"  Before  you  go,  my  boy,  tell  me,  have  you  spoken  to 
any  one  of  this  meeting  before  to-day  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  told  all  to  mamma  when  I  got  back  from 
church,  and  gave  her  the  ten  sous." 

"  And  you  have  told  us  the  whole  truth  ? "  continued 
the  magistrate.  "  You  know  that  it  is  a  very  grave  matter 
to  attempt  to  impose  on  justice.  She  always  finds  it  out, 
and  it  is  my  duty  to  warn  you  that  she  inflicts  the  most 
terrible  punishment  upon  liars." 

The  little  fellow  blushed  as  red  as  a  cherry,  and  held 
down  his  head. 

"  I  see,"  pursued  M.  Daburon,  "  that  you  have  concealed 
something  from  us.  Don't  you  know  that  the  police  know 
everything  ?  " 

"  Pardon !  sir,"  cried  the  boy,  bursting  into  tears, — 
"  pardon.  Don't  punish  me,  and  I  will  never  do  so  again." 

"  Tell  us,  then,  how  you  have  deceived  us  ?  " 

"  Well,  sir,  it  was  not  ten  sous  that  the  man  gave  me, 
it  was  twenty  sous.  I  only  gave  half  to  mamma ;  and  I 
kept  the  rest  to  buy  marbles  with." 

"  My  little  friend,"  said  the  investigating  magistrate, 
"  for  this  time  I  forgive  you.  But  let  it  be  a  lesson  f®r 
the  remainder  of  your  life.  You  may  go  now,  and  re- 
member it  is  useless  to  try  and  hide  the  truth ;  it  always 
comes  to  light !  " 

II. 

THE  two  last  depositions  awakened-in  M.  Daburon's  mind 
some  slight  gleams  of  hope.  In  the  midst  of  darkness, 
the  humblest  rushlight  acquires  brilliancy. 

"  I  will  go  at  once  to  Bougival,  sir,  if  you  approve  of 
this  step,"  suggested  Gevrol. 


i8  Till:  tEROUGE   CASE. 

"Pci  haps  you  would  do  well  to  wait  a  little,"  ansuered 
M.  Daburon.  "This  man  was  seen  on  Sunday  morning; 
we  will  inquire  into  Widow  Lerouge's  movements  on  that 
day." 

Three  neighbours  were  called.  They  all  declared  that 
the  widow  had  kept  her  bed  all  Sunday.  To  one  woman 
who,  hearing  she  was  unwell,  had  visited  her,  she  said, 
"Ah!  I  had  last  night  a  terrible  accident."  Nobody  at 
the  time  attached  any  significance  to  these  words. 

"  The  man  with  the  rings  in  his  ears  becomes  more  and 
important,"  said  the  magistrate,  when  the  woman  had  re- 
tired. "  To  find  him  again  is  indispensable  :  you  must 
see  to  this,  M.  Gevrol." 

"Before  eight  days,  I  shall  have  him,"  replied  the  chief 
of  detective  police,  "  if  I  have  to  search  every  boat  on  the 
Seine,  from  its  source  to  the  ocean.  I  know  the  name  of 
the  captain,  Gervais.  The  navigation  office  will  tell  me 
something." 

He  was  interrupted  by  Lecoq,  who  rushed  into  the 
house  breathless.  "  Here  is  old  Tabaret,"  he  said.  "  I 
met  him  just  as  he  was  going  out.  What  a  man  !  He 
wouldn't  wait  for  the  train,  but  gave  I  don't  know  how 
much  to  a  cabman ;  and  we  drove  here  in  fifty  minutes  !  " 

Almost  immediately,  a  man  appeared  at  the  door,  whose 
aspect  it  must  be  admitted  was  not  at  all  what  one  would 
have  expected  of  a  person  who  had  joined  the  police  for 
honour  alone.  He  was  certainly  sixty  years  old  and  did 
not  look  a  bit  younger.  Short,  thin,  and  rather  bent,  he 
leant  on  the  carved  ivory  handle  of  a  stout  cane.  His 
round  face  wore  that  expression  of  perpetual  astonish- 
ment, mingled  with  uneasiness,  which  has  made  the  for- 
tunes of  two  comic  actors  of  the  Palais-Royal  theatre. 
Scrupulously  shaved,  he  presented  a  very  short  chin,  large 
and  good  natured  lips,  and  a  nose  disagreeably  elevated,  like 
the  broad  end  of  one  of  Sax's  horns.  His  eyes  of  a  dull  gray, 
were  small  and  red  at  the  lids,  and  absolutely  void  of  ex- 
pression ;  yet  they  fatigued  the  observer  by  their  insup- 
portable restlessness.  A  few  straight  hairs  shaded  his 
forehead,  which  receded  like  that  of  a  grey-hound,  and 
through  their  scantiness  barely  concealed  his  long  ugly 
ears.  He  was  very  comfortably  dressed,  clean  as  a  new 
franc  piece,  displaying  linen  of  dazzling  whiteness,  and 
wearing  silk  gloves  and  leather  gaiters.  A  long  and  mas- 


THE  LEROUGE  CASE.  19 

sive  gold  chain,  very  vulgar-looking,  was  twisted  thrice 
round  his  neck,  and  fell  in  cascades  into  the  pocket  of  his 
waistcoat. 

M.  Tabaret,  surnamed  Tirauclair,  stood  at  the  thres- 
hold, and  bowed  almost  to  the  ground,  bending  his  old 
back  into  an  arch,  and  in  the  humblest  of  voices  asked, 
"The  investigating  magistrate  has  deigned  to  send  for 
me  ?  " 

"  Yes  !  "  replied  M.  Daburon,  adding  under  his  breath  ; 
"  and  if  you  are  a  man  of  any  ability,  there  is  at  least 
nothing  to  indicate  it  in  your  appearance." 

"  I  am  here,"  continued  the  old  fellow,  "  completely  at  the 
service  of  justice." 

"  I  wish  to  know,"  said  M.  Daburon,  "  whether  you  can 
discover  some  clue  that  will  put  us  upon  the  track  of  the 
assassin.  I  will  explain  the — " 

"  Oh,  I  know  enough  of  it !  "  interrupted  old  Tabaret. 
"  Lecoq  has  told  me  the  principal  facts,  just  as  much  as  I 
desire  to  know." 

"  Nevertheless — "  commenced  the  commissary  of  police. 

"  If  you  will  permit  me,  I  prefer  to  proceed  without 
receiving  any  details,  in  order  to  be  more  fully  master  of 
my  own  impressions.  When  one  knows  another's  opinion 
it  can't  help  influencing  one's  judgment.  I  will,  if  you 
please,  at  once  commence  my  researches,  with  Lecoq's 
assistance." 

As  the  old  fellow  spoke,  his  little  gray  eyes  dilated,  and 
became  brilliant  as  carbuncles.  His  face  reflected  an 
internal  satisfaction ;  even  his  wrinkles  seemed  to  laugh. 
His  figure  became  erect,  and  his  step  was  almost  elastic, 
as  he  darted  into  the  inner  chamber.  He  remained  there 
about  half  an  hour  ;  then  came  out  running,  then  re-entered 
and  then  again  came  out ;  once  more  he  disappeared  and 
reappeared  again  almost  immediately.  The  magistrate 
could  not  help  comparing  him  to  a  pointer  on  the  scent,  his 
turned-up  nose  even  moved  about  as  if  to  discover  some 
subtle  odour  left  by  the  assassin.  All  the  while  he  talked 
loudly  and  with  much  gesticulation,  apostrophising  himself, 
scolding  himself,  uttering  little  cries  of  triumph  or  self- 
encouragement.  He  did  not  allow  Lecoq  to  have  a 
moment's  rest.  He  wanted  this  or  that  or  the  other  thing. 
He  demanded  paper  and  a  pencil.  Then  he  wanted  a 
spade;  and  finally  he  cried  out  for  plaster  of  Paris,  sonic 


20  THE  LEROUGE  CASE. 

water  and  a  bottle  of  oil.  When  more  than  an  hour  had 
elapsed,  the  investigating  magistrate  began  to  grow  impa- 
tient, and  asked  what  had  become  of  the  amateur  detective. 

"  He  is  on  the  road,"  replied  the  corporal,  "  lying  Hat 
in  the  mud,  and  mixing  some  plaster  in  a  plate.  He  says 
he  has  nearly  finished,  and  that  he  is  coming  back  pres- 
ently." 

He  did  in  fact  return  almost  instantly,  joyous,  triumphant, 
looking  at  least  twenty  years  younger.  Lecoq  followed 
him,  carrying  with  the  utmost  precaution  a  large  basket. 
"  I  have  solved  the  riddle  !  "  said  Tabaret  to  the  magis- 
trate. "  It  is  all  clear  now,  and  as  plain  as  noon-day. 
Lecoq,  my  lad,  put  the  basket  on  the  table." 

Gevrol  at  this  moment  returned  from  his  expedition 
equally  delighted.  "  I  am  on  the  track  of  the  man  with 
the  earrings,"  said  he  ;  "  the  boat  went  down  the  river.  I 
have  obtained  an  exact  description  of  the  master  Gervais." 

"  What  have  you  discovered,  M.  Tabaret !  "  asked  the 
magistrate. 

The  old  fellow  carefully  emptied  upon  the  table  the  con- 
tents of  the  basket, — a  big  lump  of  clay,  several  large 
sheets  of  paper,  and  three  or  four  small  lumps  of  plaster 
yet  damp.  Standing  behind  this  table,  he  presented  a 
grotesque  resemblance  to  those  mountebank  conjurers  who 
in  the  public  squares  juggle  the  money  of  the  lookers-on. 
His  clothes  had  greatly  suffered :  he  was  covered  with 
mud  up  to  the  chin.  "  In  the  first  place,"  said  he,  at  last, 
in  a  tone  of  affected  modesty,  "  robbery  has  had  nothing 
to  do  with  the  crime  that  occupies  our  attention." 

"  Oh  !  of  course  not !  "  muttered  Gevrol. 

"I  shall  prove  it,"  continued  old  Tabaret,  "by  the 
evidence.  By-and-by  I  shall  offer  my  humble  opinion  as  to 
the  real  motive.  In  the  second  place,  the  assassin  arrived 
here  before  half-past  nine ;  that  is  to  say,  before  the  rain 
fell.  No  more  than  M.  Gevrol  have  I  been  able  to  dis- 
cover traces  of  muddy  footsteps ;  but  under  the  table,  on 
the  spot  where  his  feet  rested,  I  find  dust.  We  are  thus 
assured  of  the  hour.  The  widow  did  not  in  the  least  ex- 
pect her  visitor.  She  had  commenced  undressing,  and  was 
winding  up  her  cuckoo  clock  when  he  knocked." 

"These  are  absolute  details  !  "  cried  the  commissary. 

"  But  easily  established,"  replied  the  amateur.  "  You 
see  this  cuckoo  clock  above  the  secretary :  it  is  one  of 


THE  LE ROUGE  CASE.  21 

those  which  run  fourteen  or  fifteen  hours  at  most,  for  I 
have  examined  it.  Now  it  is  more  than  probable,  it  is  cer- 
tain, that  the  widow  wound  it  up  every  evening  before  going 
to  bed.  How,  then,  is  it  that  the  clock  has  stopped  at  five  ? 
Because  she  must  have  touched  it.  As  she  was  drawing  the 
chain,  the  assassin  knocked.  In  proof,  I  show  this  chair 
standing  under  the  clock,  and  on  the  seat  a  very  plain 
foot-mark.  Now  look  at  the  dress  of  the  victim  ;  the  body 
of  it  is  off.  In  order  to  open  the  door  more  quickly,  she 
did  not  wait  to  put  it  on  again,  but  hastily  threw  this  old 
shawl  over  her  shoulders." 

"  By  Jove  !  "  exclaimed  the  corporal,  evidently  struck. 

"  The  widow,"  continued  the  old  fellow,  "knew the  per- 
son who  knocked.  Her  haste  to" open  the  door  gives  rise  to 
this  conjecture  ;  what  follows  proves  it.  The  assassin 
then  gained  admission  without  difficulty.  He  is  a  young 
man,  a  little  above  the  middle  height,  elegantly  dressed. 
He  wore  on  that  evening  a  high  hat.  He  carried  an  um- 
brella, and  smoked  a  trabucos  cigar  in  a  holder." 

"  Ridiculous  !  "  cried  Gevrol.     "  This  is  too  much." 

"  Too  much,  perhaps,"  retorted  old  Tabaret.  "  At  all 
events,  it  is  the  truth.  If  you  are  not  minute  in  your 
investigations,  I  cannot  help  it ;  anyhow,  I  am.  1  search, 
and  I  find.  Too  much,  say  you  ?  Well  deign  to  glance  at 
these  lumps  of  damp  plaster.  They  represent  the  heels  of 
the  boots  worn  by  the  assassin,  of  which  I  found  a  most 
perfect  impression  near  the  ditch,  where  the  key  was 
picked  up.  On  these  sheets  of  paper,  I  have  marked  in 
outline  the  imprint  of  the  foot  which  I  cannot  take  up, 
because  it  is  on  some  sand.  Look  !  heel  high,  instep 
pronounced,  sole  small  and  narrow, — an  elegant  boot, 
belonging  to  a  foot  well  cared  for  evidently.  Look  for 
this  impression  all  along  the  path  ;  and  you  will  find  it 
again  twice.  Then  you  will  find  it  five  times  repeated  in 
the  garden  where  no  one  else  had  been  ;  and  these  foot- 
prints prove,  by  the  way,  that  the  stranger  knocked  not  at 
the  door,  but  at  the  window-shutter,  beneath  which  shone 
a  gleam  of  light.  At  the  entrance  to  the  garden,  the  man 
leapt  to  avoid  a  flower-bed !  the  point  of  the  foot,  more 
deeply  imprinted  than  usual,  shows  it.  He  leapt  more 
than  two  yards  with  ease,  proving  that  he  is  active,  and 
therefore  young." 

Old  Tabaret  spoke  in  a  low  voice,  clear  and  penetrating; 


21  TIIR  LEKOUGE  CASE. 

and  his  eye  glanced  from  one  to  the  other  of  his  auditors, 
watching  the  impression  he  was  making.  "  Does  the  hut 
astonish  you,  M.  Gevrol  ?  "  he  pursued.  "  Just  look  at 
the  circle  traced  in  the  dust  on  the  marble  top  of  the 
secretary.  Is  it  because  I  have  mentioned  his  height 
that  you  are  surprised  ?  Take  the  trouble  to  examine  the 
tops  of  the  wardrobes  and  you  will  see  that  the  assassin 
passed  his  hands  across  them.  Therefore  he  is  taller  than 
I  am.  Do  not  say  that,  he  got  on  a  chair,  for  in  that  case, 
he  would  have  seen  and  would  not  have  been  obliged  to 
feel.  Are  you  astonished  about  the  umbrella  ?  This  lump 
of  earth  shows  an  admirable  impression  not  only  of  the 
end  of  the  stick,  but  even  of  the  little  round  piece  of 
wood  which  is  always  placed  at  the  end  of  the  silk.  Per- 
haps you  cannot  get  over  the  statement  that  he  smoked 
a  cigar?  Here  is  the  end  of  a  trabucos  that  I  found 
amongst  the  ashes.  Has  the  end  been  bitten  ?  No.  Has 
it  been  moistened  with  saliva  ?  No.  Then  he  who  smoked 
it  used  a  cigar-holder." 

Lecoq  was  unable  to  conceal  his  enthusiastic  admiration, 
and  noiselessly  rubbed  his  hands  together.  The  commis- 
sary appeared  stupefied,  while  M.  Daburon  was  delighted. 
Gevrol's  face,  on  the  contrary,  was  sensibly  elongated. 
As  for  the  corporal,  he  was  overwhelmed. 

"  Now,"  continued  the  old  fellow,  "  follow  me  closely. 
We  have  traced  the  young  man  into  the  house.  How  he 
explained  his  presence  at  this  hour,  I  do  not  know  •  this 
much  is  certain,  he  told  the  widow  he  had  not  dined.  The 
worthy  woman  was  delighted  to  hear  it,  and  at  once  set  to 
work  to  prepare  a  meal.  This  meal  was  not  for  herself  ; 
for  in  the  cupboard  I  have  found  the  remains  of  her  own 
dinner.  She  had  dined  off  fish  ;  the  autopsy  will  confirm 
the  truth  of  this  statement.  Besides  you  can  see  your- 
selves, there  is  but  one  glass  on  the  table,  and  one  knife. 
But  who  is  this  young  man  ?  Evidently  the  widow  looked 
upon  him  as  a  man  of  superior  rank  to  her  own  ;  for  in 
the  cupboard  is  a  table-cloth  still  very  clean.  Did  she  use 
it  ?  No.  For  her  guest  she  brought  out  a  clean  linen  one, 
her  very  best.  It  is  for  him  this  magnificent  glass,  a 
present,  no  doubt,  and  it  is  evident  she  did  not  often  use 
this  knife  with  the  ivory  handle." 

"  That  is  all  true,"  murmured  M.  Daburon,  "  very 
true." 


THE  LE ROUGE  CASE.  23 

"Now,  then  we  have  got  the  young  man  sealed.  He 
began  by  drinking  a  glass  of  wine,  while  the  widow  was 
putting  her  pan  on  the  fire.  Then,  his  heart  failing  him, 
he  asked  for  brandy,  and  swallowed  about  five  small  glass- 
fuls.  After  an  internal  struggle  of  ten  minutes  (the  time 
it  must  have  taken  to  cook  the  ham  and  eggs  as  much  as 
they  are),  the  young  man  arose  and  approached  the  widow, 
who  was  squatting  down  and  leaning  forward  over  her 
cooking.  He  stabbed  her  twice  on  the  back  ;  but  she  was 
not  killed  instantly.  She  half  arose  seizing  the  assassin  by 
the  hands ;  while  he  drew  back,  lifting  her  suddenly,  and 
then  hurling  her  down  in  the  position  in  which  you  see  her. 
This  short  struggle  is  indicated  by  the  posture  of  the 
body ;  for,  squatting  down  and  being  struck  in  the 
back,  it  is  naturally  on  her  back  that  she  ought  to  have 
fallen.  The  murderer  used  a  sharp  narrow  weapon,  which 
was,  unless  I  am  deceived,  the  end  of  a  foil,  sharpened, 
and  with  the  button  broken  off.  By  wiping  the  weapon 
upon  his  victim's  skirt,  the  assassin  leaves  us  this  indica- 
tion. He  was  not,  however,  hurt  in  the  struggle.  The 
victim  must  have  clung  with  a  death-grip  to  his 
hands  ;  but,  as  he  had  not  taken  off  his  lavender  kid 
gloves," — 

"  Why  this  is  romance,"  exclaimed  Gevrol. 

"  Have  you  examined  the  dead  woman's  finger-nails,  M. 
Gevol  ?  No.  Well,  do  so,  and  then  tell  me  whether  I  am 
mistaken.  The  woman,  now  dead,  we  come  to  the  object 
of  her  assassination.  What  did  this  well-dressed  young 
gentleman  want  ?  Money  ?  Valuables  ?  No  !  no  !  a  hun- 
dred times  no!  What  he  wanted,  what  he  sought,  and 
what  he  found,  were  papers,  documents,  letters,  which  he 
knew  to  be  in  the  possession  of  the  victim.  To  find  them, 
he  overturned  everything,  upset  the  cupboards,  unfolded 
the  linen,  broke  open  the  secretary,  of  which  he  could  not 
find  the  key,  and  even  emptied  the  mattress  of  the  bed. 
At  last  he  found  these  documents.  And  then  do  you 
know  what  he  did  with  them  ?  Why,  burned  them,  of 
course ;  not  in  the  fire-place,  but  in  the  little  stove  in 
the  front  room.  His  end  accomplished,  what  does  he  do 
next  ?  He  flies,  carrying  with  him  all  that  he  finds  valua- 
ble, to  baffle  detection,  by  suggesting  a  robbery.  He 
wrapped  everything  he  found  worth  taking  in  the  napkin 
which  was  to  have  served  him  at  dinner,  and  blowing  out 


24  THE  LEROUGE  CASE. 

the  candle,  he  fled,  locking  the  door  on  the  outside,  and 
throwing  the  key  into  a  ditch.  And  that  is  all." 

"  M.  Tabaret,"  said  the  magistrate,  "your  investigation 
is  admirable ;  and  I  am  persuaded  your  inferences  are 
correct." 

"  Ah  !  "  cried  Lecoq,  "  is  he  not  collossal,  my  old  Tirau 
clair  ?  " 

"  Pyramidal !  "  cried  Gevrol  ironically.  "  I  fear,  how- 
ever, your  well-dressed  young  man  must  have  been  just  a 
little  embarrassed  in  carrying  a  bundle  covered  with  a  snow 
white  napkin,  which  could  be  so  easily  seen  from  a  dis- 
tance. 

"  He  did  not  carry  it  a  hundred  leagues,"  responded  old 
Tabaret.  "  You  may  well  believe,  that,  to  reach  the  railway 
station,  he  was  not  fool  enough  to  take  the  omnibus.  No, 
he  returned  on  foot  by  the  shortest  way,  which  borders  the 
river.  Now  on  reaching  the  Seine,  unless  he  is  more  know- 
ing than  I  take  him  to  be,  his  first  care  was  to  throw  this 
tell-tale  bundle  into  the  water." 

"  Do  you  believe  so,  M.  Tirauclair  ?  "  asked  Gevrol. 

"  I  don't  mind  making  abet  on  it ;  and  the  best  evidence 
of  my  belief  is,  that  I  have  sent  three  men,  under  the  sur- 
veillance of  a  gendarme,  to  drag  the  Seine  at  the  nearest 
spot  from  here.  If  they  succeed  in  finding  the  bundle,  I 
have  promised  them  a  recompense." 

"  Out  of  your  own  pocket,  old  enthusiast  ? " 

"  Yes,  M.  Gevrol,  out  of  my  own  pocket." 

'•  If  they  should  however  find  this  bundle  !  "  murmured 
M.  Daburon. 

He  was  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  a  gendarme,  who 
said  :  "  Here  is  a  soiled  table-napkin,  filled  with  plate, 
money,  and  jewels,  which  these  men  have  found  ;  they 
claim  the  hundred  francs'  reward,  promised  them." 

Old  Tabaret  took  from  his  pocket-book  a  bank  note, 
which  he  handed  to  the  gendarme.  "  Now,"  demanded 
he,  crushing  Gevrol  with  one  disdainful  glance,  "  what 
thinks  the  investigating  magistrate  after  this  ?  " 

"  That,  thanks  to  your  remarkable  penetration,  we  shall 
discover,  and — " 

He  did  not  finish.  The  doctor  summoned  to  make  the 
post-mortem  examination  entered  the  room.  That  un- 
pleasant task  accomplished,  it  only  confirmed  the  asser- 
tions and  conjectures  of  old  Tabaret.  The  doctor  ex- 


THE  LEROUGE  CASE.  25 

plained,  as  the  old  man  had  done,  the  position  of  the  body. 
In  his  opinion  also,  there  had  been  a  struggle.  He 
pointed  out  a  bluish  circle,  hardly  perceptible,  round  the 
neck  of  the  victim,  produced  apparently  by  the  powerful 
grasp  of  the  murderer ;  finally  he  declared  that  Widow 
Lerouge  had  eaten  about  three  hours  before  being 
struck. 

Nothing  now  remained  except  to  collect  the  different  ob- 
jects which  would  be  useful  for  the  prosecution,  and  might 
at  a  later  period  confound  the  culprit.  Old  Tabaret  exam- 
ined with  extreme  care  the  dead  woman's  finger-nails  ;  and, 
using  infinite  precaution,  he  even  extracted  from  behind 
them  several  small  particles  of  kid.  The  largest  of  these 
pieces  was  not  above  the  twenty-fifth  part  of  an  inch  in 
length ;  but  all  the  same  their  colour  was  easily  distin- 
guishable. He  put  aside  also  the  part  of  the  dress  upon 
which  the  assassin  had  wiped  his  weapon.  These  with 
the  bundle  recovered  from  the  Seine,  and  the  different 
casts  taken  by  the  old  fellow,  were  all  the  traces  the  mur- 
derer had  left  behind  him.  It  was  not  much  ;  but  this 
little  was  enormous  in  the  eyes  of  M.  Daburon  ;  and  he 
had  strong  hopes  of  discovering  the  culprit.  The  greatest 
obstacle  to  success  in  the  unravelling  of  mysterious  crimes 
is  in  mistaking  the  motive.  If  the  researches  take  at  the 
first  step  a  false  direction,  they  are  diverted  further  and 
further  from  the  truth,  in  proportion  to  the  length  they  are 
followed.  Thanks  to  old  Tabaret,  the  magistrate  felt  con- 
fident that  he  was  in  the  right  path. 

Night  had  come  on.  M.  Daburon  had  now  nothing 
more  to  do  at  La  Jonchere ;  but  Gevrol,  who  still  clung  to 
his  own  opinion  of  the  guilt  of  the  man  with  the  rings  in 
his  ears,  declared  he  would  remain  at  Bougival.  He  de- 
termined to  employ  the  evening  in  visiting  the  different 
wine  shops,  and  finding  if  possible  new  witnesses.  At  the 
moment  of  departure,  after  the  commissary  and  the  entire 
party  had  wished  M.  Daburon  good-night,  the  latter  asked 
M.  Tabaret  to  accompany  him. 

"  I  was  about  to  solicit  that  honour,"  replied  the  old 
fellow.  They  set  out  together ;  and  naturally  the  crime 
which  had  been  discovered,  and  with  which  they  were  mu- 
tually preoccupied,  formed  the  subject  of  their  conversa- 
tion. 

we,  or  shall  we  not,  ascertain  the  antecedents 


26  THE  LEROUGE  CASK. 

of  this  woman!"  repeated  old  Tabaret.  "All  depends 
upon  that  now  !  " 

"  \\'e  shall  ascertain  them,  if  the  grocer's  wife  has  told 
the  truth,"  replied  M.  Daburon.  "  If  the  husband  of 
Widow  Lerouge  was  a  sailor,  and  if  her  son  Jacques  is  in 
the  navy,  the  minister  of  marine  can  furnish  information 
that  will  soon  lead  to  their  discovery.  I  will  write  to  the 
minister  this  very  night." 

They  reached  the  station  at  Rueil,  and  took  their  places 
in  the  train.  They  were  fortunate  enough  to  secure  a 
first  class  carriage  to  themselves.  But  old  Tabaret  was 
was  no  longer  disposed  for  conversation.  He  reflected, 
he  sought,  he  combined  ;  and  in  his  face  might  easily  be 
read  the  working  of  his  thoughts.  M..  Daburon  watched 
him  curiously  and  felt  singularly  attracted  by  this  eccentric 
old  man,  whose  very  original  taste  had  led  him  to  devote 
his  services  to  the  secret  police  of  the  Rue  de  Jerusalem. 
"  M  Tabaret,"  he  suddenly  asked,  "  have  you  been  long 
associated  with  the  police  ?  " 

"  Nine  years,  M.  Daburon,  more  than  nine  years ;  and 
permit  me  to  confess  I  am  a  little  surprised  that  you  have 
never  before  heard  of  me." 

"  I  certainly  knew  you  by  reputation,"  answered  M.  Da- 
buron ;  "  but  your  name  did  not  occur  to  me,  and  it  \N  as 
only  in  consequence  of  hearing  you  praised  that  I  had  the 
excellent  idea  of  asking  your  assistance.  But  what,  I 
should  like  to  know,  is  your  reason  for  adopting  this  em- 
ployment ?  " 

"  Sorrow,  sir,  loneliness,  weariness.  Ah  !  I  have  not  al- 
ways been  happy  !  " 

"  I  have  been  told,  though,  that  you  are  rich." 

The  old  fellow  heaved  a  deep  sigh,  which  revealed  the 
most  cruel  deceptions.  "  I  am  well  off,  sir,"  he  replied  ; 
"  but  I  have  not  always  been  so.  Until  I  wras  forty-five 
years  old,  my  life  was  a  series  of  absurd  and  useless  priva- 
tions. I  had  a  father  who  wasted  my  youth,  ruined  my  life, 
and  made  me  the  most  pitiable  of  human  creatures.  " 

There  are  men  who  can  never  divest  themselves  of  their 
professional  habits.  M.  Daburon  was  at  all  times  and 
seasons  more  or  less  an  investigating  magistrate.  "  How, 
M.  Tabaret ;  "  he  inquired,  "your  father  the  author  of  all 
your  misfortunes  ?  " 

"  Alas,  yes,  sir !     I  have  forgiven  him  at  last ;  but   I 


THE  LEROUGE  CASE.  27 

used  to  curse  him  heartily.  In  the  first  transports  of  my 
resentment,  I  heaped  upon  his  memory  all  the  insults  that 
can  be  inspired  by  the  most  violent  hatred,  when  I  learnt 
....  But  I  will  confide  my  history  to  you,  M.  Daburon. 
When  I  was  five  and  twenty  years  of  age,  I  was  earning 
two  thousand  francs  a  year,  as  a  clerk  at  the  Monte  de 
Piete.  One  morning  my  father  entered  my  lodging,  and 
abruptly  announced  to  me  that  he  was  ruined,  and  without 
food  or  shelter.  He  appeared  in  despair,  and  talked  of 
killing  himself.  I  loved  my  father.  Naturally,  I  strove 
to  reassure  him  ;  I  boasted  of  my  situation,  and  explained 
to  him  at  some  length,  that,  while  I  earned  the  means  for 
living,  he  should  want  for  nothing  ;  and,  to  commence,  I 
insisted  that  henceforth  we  should  live  together.  No 
sooner  said  than  done,  and  during  twenty  years  I  was  en- 
cumbered with  the  old — " 

"  What !  you  repent  of  your  admirable  conduct,  M.  Tab- 
aret  ? " 

"  Do  I  repent  of  it !  That  is  to  say  he  deserved  to  be 
poisoned  by  the  bread  I  gave  him." 

M.  Daburon  was  unable  to  repress  a  gesture  of  surprise, 
which  did  not  escape  the  old  fellow's  notice. 

"  Hear,  before  you  condemn  me,"  he  continued. 
"  There  was  I  at  twenty-five,  imposing  upon  myself  the 
severest  privations  for  the  sake  of  my  father, — no  more 
friends,  no  more  flirtations,  nothing.  In  the  evenings,  to 
augment  our  scanty  revenues,  I  worked  at  copying  law 
papers  for  a  notary.  I  denied  myself  even  the  luxury  of 
tobacco.  Notwithstanding  this,  the  old  fellow  complained 
without  ceasing  ;  he  regretted  his  lost  fortune  ;  he  must 
have  pocket-money,  with  which  to  buy  this,  or  that ;  my 
utmost  exertions  failed  to  satisfy  him.  Ah,  heaven  alone 
knows  what  I  suffered  !  I  was  not  born  to  live  alone  and 
grow  old,  like  a  dog.  I  longed  for  the  pleasures  of  a  home 
and  a  family.  My  dream  was  to  marry,  to  adore  a  good 
wife,  by  whom  I  might  be  loved  a  little,  and  to  see  inno- 
cent healthy  little  ones  gambolling  about  my  knees.  But 
pshaw !  when  such  thoughts  entered  my  heart  and  forced 
a  tear  or  two  from  my  eyes,  I  rebelled  against  myself.  I 
said  :  '  My  lad,  when  you  earn  but  three  thousand  francs 
a  year,  and  have  an  old  and  cherished  father  to  support,  it 
is  your  duty  to  stifle  such  desires,  and  remain  a  bachelor.' 
And  yet  I  met  a  young  girl.  It  is  thirty  years  now  since 


28  THE  LEROUGE  CASE. 

that  time  ;  well !  just  look  at  me,  I  am  sure  I  am  blushing 
as  red  as  a  tomato.  Her  name  was  Hortense.  Who  can 
tell  what  has  become  of  her !  She  was  beautiful  and 
poor.  Well,  I  was  quite  an  old  man  when  my  father  died, 
the  wretch,  the  .... 

"  M.  Tabaret !  "  interrupted  the  magistrate,  "  for  shame, 
M.  Tabaret !  " 

"  But  I  have  already  told  you,  I  have  forgiven  him,  sir. 
However  you  will  soon  understand  my  anger.  On  the  day 
of  his  death,  looking  in  his  secretary,  I  found  a  memoran- 
dum of  an  income  of  twenty  thousand  francs  !  " 

"  How  so  !  was  he  rich  ?  " 

"  Yes,  very  rich  ;  for  that  was  not  all :  he  owned  near 
Orleans  a  property  leased  for  six  thousand  francs  a  year. 
He  owned,  besides,  the  house  I  now  live  in,  where  we 
lived  together ;  and  I,  fool,  sot,  imbecile,  stupid  animal 
that  I  was,  used  to  pay  the  rent  every  three  months  to  the 
concierge !  " 

"  That  was  too  much !  "  M.  Daburon  could  not  help  say- 
ing. 

"  Was  it  not,  sir  ?  I  was  robbing  myself  of  my  own 
money  !  To  crown  his  hypocrisy,  he  left  a  will  wherein 
he  declared,  in  the  name  of  Holy  Trinity,  that  he  had  no 
other  aim  in  view,  in  thus  acting,  than  my  own  advantage. 
He  wished,  so  he  wrote,  to  habituate  me  to  habits  of  good 
order  and  economy,  and  keep  me  from  the  commission  of 
follies.  And  I  was  forty-five  years  old,  and  for  twenty 
years  I  had  been  reproaching  myself  if  ever  I  spent  a 
single  sou  uselessly.  In  short,  he  had  speculated  on  my 
good  heart,  he  had  ....  Bah !  on  my  word,  it  is 
enough  to  disgust  the  human  race  with  filial  piety  !  " 

M.  Tabaret's  anger,  albeit  very  real" and  justified,  was  so 
highly  ludicrous,  that  M.  Daburon  had  much  difficulty  to 
restrain  his  laughter,  in  spite  of  the  real  sadness  of  the 
recital. 

"  At  least,"  said  he,  "  this  fortune  must  have  given  you 
pleasure." 

"  Not  at  all,  sir,  it  came  too  late.  Of  what  avail  to  have 
the  bread  when  one  has  no  longer. the  teeth  ?  The  mar- 
riageable age  had  passed.  I  resigned  my  situation,  how- 
ever, to  make  way  for  some  one  poorer  than  myself.  At 
the  end  of  a  month  I  was  sick  and  tired  of  life ;  and,  to 
replace  the  affections  that  had  been  denied  me,  I  resolved 


THE  LE ROUGE  CASE.  29 

to  give  myself  a  passion,  a  hobby,  a  mania.  I  became  a 
collector  of  books.  You  think,  sir,  perhaps  that  to  take 
an  interest  in  books  a  man  must  have  studied,  must  be 
learned  ?  " 

"  I  know,  dear  M.  Tabaret,  that  he  must  have  money. 
I  am  acquainted  with  an  illustrious  bibliomaniac  who  may 
be  able  to  read,  but  who  is  most  certainly  unable  to  sign 
his  own  name." 

"  This  is  very  likely.  I,  too,  can  read ;  and  I  read  all 
the  books  I  bought.  I  collected  all  I  could  find  which 
related,  no  matter  how  little,  to  the  police.  Memoirs, 
reports,  pamphlets,  speeches,  letters,  novels, — all  suited 
me ;  and  I  devoured  them.  So  much  so,  that  little  by 
little  I  became  attracted  towards  the  mysterious  powef 
which,  from  the  obscurity  of  the  Rue  de  Jerusalem, 
watches  over  and  protects  society,  which  penetrates  every- 
where, lifts  the  most  impervious  veils,  sees  through  every 
plot,  divines  what  is  kept  hidden,  knows  exactly  the  value 
of  a  man,  the  price  of  a  conscience,  and  which  accumulates 
in  its  portfolios  the  most  terrible,  as  well  as  the  most 
shameful  secrets  !  In  reading  the  memoirs  of  celebrated 
detectives,  more  attractive  to  me  than  the  fables  of  our 
best  authors  I  became  inspired  by  an  enthusiastic  admi- 
ration for  those  men,  so  keen  scented,  so  subtle,  flexible 
as  steel,  artful  and  penetrating,  fertile  in  expedients,  who 
follow  crime  on  the  trail,  armed  with  the  law,  through  the 
brushwood  of  legality,  as  relentlessly  as  the  savages  of 
Cooper  pursue  their  enemies  in  the  depths  of  the  Amer- 
ican forests.  The  desire  seized  me  to  become  a  wheel  of 
this  admirable  machine, — a  small  assistance  in  the  punish- 
ment of  crime  and  the  triumph  of  innocence.  I  made  the 
essay  ;  and  I  fouud  I  did  not  succeed  too  badly." 

"  And  does  this  employment  please  you  ?  " 

"  I  owe  to  it,  sir,  my  liveliest  enjoyments.  Adieu  weari- 
ness I  since  I  have  abandoned  the  search  for  books  to 
the  search  for  men.  I  shrug  my  shoulders  when  I  see  a 
foolish  fellow  pay  twenty-five  francs  for  the  right  of  hunt- 
ing a  hare.  What  a  prize  !  Give  me  the  hunting  of  a 
man  !  That,  at  least,  calls  the  faculties  into  play,  and  the 
victory  is  not  inglorious  !  The  game  in  my  sport  is  equal 
to  the  hunter ;  they  both  possess  intelligence,  strength, 
and  cunning.  The  arms  are  nearly  equal.  Ah  !  if  people 
but  knew  the  excitement  of  these  games  of  hide  and  seek 


30  THE  LE ROUGE  CASE. 

which  are  played  between  the  criminal  and  the  detective, 
everybody  would  be  wanting  employment  at  the  office  of 
of  the  Rue  de  Jerusalem.  The  misfortune  is,  that  the  art 
is  becoming  lost.  Great  crimes  are  now  so  rare.  The 
race  of  strong  -fearless  criminals  has  given  place  to  the 
mob  of  vulgar  pick-pockets.  The  few  rascals  who  are 
heard  of  occasionally  are  as  cowardly  as  foolish.  They 
sign  their  names  to  their  misdeeds,  and  even  leave  their 
cards  lying  about.  There  is  no  merit  in  catching  them. 
Their  crime  found  out,  you  have  only  to  go  and  arrest  them. 

"  It  seems  to  me,  though,"  interrupted  M.  Daburon, 
smiling,  "  that  our  assassin  is  not  such  a  bungler." 

"  He,  sir,  is  an  exception  ;  and  I  shall  have  greater  de- 
light in  tracking  him.  I  will  do  everything  for  that,  I  will 
even  compromise  myself  if  necessary.  For  I  ought  to 
ccnfess,  M.  Daburon,"  added  he,  slightly  embarrassed, 
"  .ha",  I  do  not  boast  to  my  friends  of  my  exploits  ;  I  even 
conceal  them  as  carefully  as  possible.  They  would  per- 
haps shake  hands  with  me  less  warmly  did  they  know  that 
Tirauclair  and  Tabaret  were  one  and  the  same." 

Insensibly  the  crime  became  again  the  subject  of  con- 
versation. It  was  agreed,  that,  the  first  thing  in  the 
morning,  M.  Tabaret  should  install  himself  at  Bougival. 
He  boasted  that  in  eight  days  he  should  examine  all  the 
people  round  about.  On  his  side  M.  Daburon  promised 
to  keep  him  advised  of  the  least  evidence  that  transpired, 
and  recall  him,  if  by  any  chance  *he  should  procure  the 
papers  of  Widow  Lerouge. 

"  To  you,  M.  Tabaret,"  said  the  magistrate  in  conclu 
sion,  "  I  shall  be  always  at  home.  If  you  have  any  occasion 
to  speak  to  me,  do  not  hesitate  to  come  at  night  as  well  as 
during  the  day.  I  rarely  go  out ;  and  you  will  always  find 
me  either  at  my  home,  Rue  Jacob,  or  in  my  office  at  the 
Palais  de  Justice.  I  will  give  orders  for  your  admittance 
whenever  you  present  yourself." 

The  train  entered  the  station  at  this  moment.  M.  Da- 
buron,  having  called  a  cab,  offered  a  seat  to  M.  Tabaret. 
The  old  fellow  declined.  "  It  is  not  worth  while,"  he 
replied,  "  for  I  live,  as  I  have  had  the  honour  of  telling 
you,  in  the  Rue  St.  Lazare,  only  a  few  steps  from  here." 

"  Till  to-morrow,  then  !  "  said  M.  Daburon. 

"  Till  to-morrow,"  replied  old  Tabaret ;  and  he  added 
w  We  shall  succeed." 


THE  LEROUGE  CASE.  31 


III. 

M.  TABARET'S  house  was  in  fact  not  more  than  four  min- 
utes'walk  from  the  railway  terminus  of  St.  Lazare.  It 
was  a  fine  building  carefully  kept,  and  which  probably 
yielded  a  fine  income,though  the  rents  were  not  too  high. 
The  old  fellow  found  plenty  of  room  in  it.  He  occupied 
on  the  first  floor,  overlooking  the  street,  some  handsome 
apartments,  well  arranged  and  comfortably  furnished,  the 
principal  of  which  was  his  collection  of  books.  He  lived 
very  simply  from  taste,  as  well  as  habit,  waited  on  by  an 
old  servant,  to  whom  on  great  occasions  the  concierge  lent 
a  helping  hand. 

No  one  in  the  house  had  the  slightest  suspicion  of  the 
avocations  of  the  proprietor.  Besides,  even  the  humblest 
agent  of  police  would  be  expected  to  possess  a  degree  of 
acuteness  for  which  no  one  gave  M.  Tabaret  credit.  In- 
deed, they  mistook  for  incipient  idiotcy  his  continual 
abstraction  of  mind.  It  is  true  that  all  who  knew  him 
remarked  the  singularity  of  his  habits.  His  frequent  ab- 
senses  from  home  had  given  to  his  proceedings  an 
appearance  at  once  eccentric  and  mysterious.  Never  was 
young  libertine  more  irregular  in  his  habits  than  this  old 
man.  He  came  or  failed  to  come  home  to  his  meals,  ate 
it  mattered  not  what  or  when.  He  went  out  at  every 
hour  of  the  day  and  night,  often  slept  abroad,  and  even 
disappeared  for  entire  weeks  at  a  time.  Then  too  he  re- 
ceived the  strangest  visitors",  odd  looking  men  of  suspicious 
appearance,  and  fellows  of  ill-favoured  and  sinister  aspect. 
This  irregular  way  of  living  had  robbed  the  old  fellow  of 
much  consideration.  Many  believed  they  saw  in  him 
a  shameless  libertine,  who  squandered  his  income  in  dis- 
reputable places.  They  would  remark  to  one  another, 
"  Is  it  not  disgraceful,  a  man  of  his  age  ?  "  He  was  aware 
of  all  this  tittle-tattle,  and  laughed  at  it.  This  did  not, 
however,  prevent  many  of  his  tenants  from  seeking  his 
society  and  paying  court  to  him.  They  would  invite  him 
to  dinner,  but  he  almost  invariably  refused. 

He  seldom  visited  but  one  person  of  the  house,  but  with 
that  one  he  was  very  intimate,  so  much  so  indeed,  that  he 
was  more  often  in  her  apartment,  than  in  his  own.  She 
was  a  widow  lady,  who  for  fifteen  years  had  occupied  an 


y  THE  LEROUGE  CASE. 

apartment  on  the  third  floor.  Her  name  was  Madame 
Gerdy,  and  she  lived  with  her  son  Noel,  whom  she  adored. 

Noel  Gerdy  was  a  man  thirty-three  years  of  age,  but 
looking  older  ;  tall  and  well  made,  he  has  a  noble  and 
intelligent  face,  large  black  eyes,  and  black  hair  which 
curled  naturally.  A  barrister,  he  passed  for  having  great 
talent,  and  greater  industry,  and  had  already  gained  a  cer- 
tain amount  of  notoriety.  He  was  an  obstinate  worker, 
cold  and  meditative,  though  devoted  to  his  profession,  and 
affected,  with  some  ostentation,  perhaps,  a  great  rigidity  of 
principle,  and  austerity  of  manners. 

In  Madame  Gerdy's  apartment,  old  Tabaret  felt  himself 
quite  at  home.  He  considered  her  as  a  relation,  and  look- 
ed upon  Noel  as  a  son.  In  spite  of  her  fifty  years,  he  had 
often  thought  of  asking  the  hand  of  his  charming  widow, 
and  was  restrained  less  by  the  fear  of  a  refusal  than  its 
consequence.  To  propose  and  to  be  rejected  would  sever 
the  existing  relations,  so  pleasurable  to  him.  However, 
he  had  by  his  will,  which  was  deposited  with  his  notary 
constituted  this  young  barrister  his  sole  legatee  ;  with  the 
single  condition  of  founding  an  annual  prize  of  two  thou- 
sand francs  to  be  bestowed  on  the  police  agent  who  during 
the  year  had  unravelled  the  most  obscure  and  mysterious 
crime. 

Short  as  was  the  distance  to  his  house,  old  Tabaret  was 
a  good  quarter  of  an  hour  in  reaching  it.  On  leaving  M. 
Daburon  his  thoughts  reverted  to  the  scene  of  the  murder ; 
and,  so  blinded  was  the  old  fellow  to  external  objects,  that 
he  moved  along  the  street,  first  jostled  on  the  right,  then 
on  the  left,  by  the  busy  passers  by,  advancing  one  step 
and  receding  two.  He  repeated  to  himself  for  the  fiftieth 
time  the  words  uttered  by  Widow  Lerouge,  as  reported  by 
the  milk-woman.  "  If  I  wished  for  any  more,  I  could  have 
it." 

u  All  is  in  that,"  murmured  he.  "  Widow  Lerouge 
possessed  some  important  secret,  which  persons  rich  and 
powerful  had  the  strongest  motives  for  concealing.  She 
had  them  in  her  power,  and  that  was  her  fortune.  She 
made  them  sing  to  her  tune  ;  she  probably  went  too  far,  and 
so  they  suppressed  her.  But  of  what  nature  was  this  se- 
cret, and  how  did  she  become  possessed  of  it  ?  Most 
likely  she  was  in  her  youth  a  servant  in  some  great  family; 
and  whilst  there,  she  saw,  heard,  or  discovered,  something. 


THE  LEROUGE  CASE.  33 

What  ?  Evidently  there  is  a  woman  at  the  bottom  of  it. 
Did  she  assist  her  mistress  in  some  love  intrigue  ?  What 
more  probable  ?  And  in  that  case  the  affair  becomes  even 
more  complicated.  Not  only  must  the  woman  be  found 
but  her  lover  also  ;  for  it  is  the  lover  who  has  moved  in 
this  affair.  He  is,  or  I  am  greatly  deceived,  a  man  of  no- 
ble  birth.  A  person  inferior  rank  would  have  simply 
hired  an  assassin.  This  man  has  not  hung  back;  he  him- 
self has  struck  the  blow  and  by  that  means  avoiding  the 
indiscretion  or  the  stupidity  of  an  accomplice.  He  is  a 
courageous  rascal,  full  of  audacity  and  coolness,  for  the 
crime  has  been  admirably  executed.  The  fellow  left  noth- 
ing behind  of  a  nature  to  compromise  him  seriously.  But 
for  me,  Gevrol,  believing  in  the  robbery,  would  have  seen 
nothing.  Fortunately,  however,  I  was  there.  .  .  .  But  yet  it 
can  hardly  be  that,"  continued  the  old  man.  "  It  must  be 
something  worse  than  a  mere  love  affair."  Old  Tabaret 
entered  the  porch  of  the  house.  The  concierge  seated  by 
the  window  of  his  lodge  saw  him  as  he  passed  beneath  the 
gas  lamp.  •"  Ah,"  said  he,  "  the  proprietor  has  returned 
at  last." 

"  So  he  has,"  replied  his  wife,  "  but  it  looks  as  though 
his  princess  would  have  nothing  to  do  with  him  to-night. 
He  seems  more  loose  than  ever." 

"  Is  it  not  positively  indecent,"  said  the  concierge,  "  and 
isn't  he  in  a  state  !  His  fair  ones  do  treat  him  well ! 
One  of  these  fine  mornings  I  shall  have  to  take  him  to  a 
lunatic  asylum  in  a  straight  waistcoat." 

"  Look  at  him  now  !  "  interrupted  his  wife,  "just  look  at 
him  now,  in  the  middle  of  the  court-yard  !  " 

The  old  fellow  had  stopped  at  the  extremity  of  the  porch. 
He  had  taken  off  his  hat,  and,  while  talking  to  himself, 
gesticulated  violently.  "No,"  said  he,  "I  have  not  yet 
got  hold  of  the  clue,  I  am  getting  near  it ;  but  have  not  yet 
found  it  out." 

He  mounted  the  staircase,  and  rang  his  bell,  forgetting 
that  he  had  his  latch-key  in  his  pocket.  His  housekeeper 
opened  the  door.  "  What,  is  it  you,  sir,"  said  she,  "  and 
at  this  hour  !  " 

"  What's  that  yon  say  ? "  asked  the  old  fellow. 

"  I  say,"  replied  the  housekeeper,  "  that  it  is  more  than 
half-past  eight  o'clock.  I  thought  you  were  not  coming 
back  this  evening.  Have  you  at  least  dined  ?" 


j.|  TIH-:  LE ROUGE  CASK. 

"  No,  not  yet." 

"Well,  fortunately  I  have  kept  your  dinner  warm. 
You  can  sit  down  to  it  at  once." 

Old  Tabaret  took  his  place  at  the  table,  and  helped 
himself  to  soup ,  but  mounting  his  hobby-horse  again,  he 
forgot  to  eat,  and  remained,  his  spoon  in  the  air,  as 
though  suddenly  struck  by  an  idea. 

"  He  is  certainly  touched  in  the  head,"  thought  Manette, 
the  housekeeper.  "  Look  at  that  stupid  expression.  Who 
in  senses  would  lead  the  life  he  does  ? "  She  touched 
him  on  the  shoulder,  and  bawled  in  his  ear,  as  if  he  were 
deaf, — "  You  do  not  eat.  Are  you  not  hungry  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes,"  muttered  he,  trying  mechanically  to  escape 
the  voice  that  sounded  in  his  ears,  "  I  am  very  hungry, 
for  since  the  morning  I  have  been  obliged — "  He  inter 
rupted  himself,  remaining  with  his  mouth  open,  his  eyes 
fixed  on  vacancy. 

"  You  were  obliged — ? "  repeated  Manette. 

"  Thunder  !  "  cried  he,  raising  his  clenched  fists  towards 
the  ceiling, — "  heaven's  thunder  !  I  have  it !  " 

His  movement  was  so  violent  and  sudden  that  the 
housekeeper  was  a  little  alarmed,  and  retired  to  the  further 
end  of  the  dining-room,  near  the  door.  "  Yes,"  continued 
he,  "  it  is  certain  there  is  a  child  !  " 

Manette  approached  him  quickly.  "  A  child  ? "  she 
asked  in  astonishment. 

"  What  next !  "  cried  he  in  a  furious  tone.  "  What  are 
you  doing  there  ?  Has  your  hardihood  come  to  this  that 
you  pick  up  the  words  which  escape  me  ?  Do  me  the  pleas 
ure  to  retire  to  your  kitchen,  and  stay  there  until  I  call 
you." 

"  He  is  going  crazy !  "  thought  Manette,  as  she  dis- 
appeared very  quickly. 

Old  Tabaret  resumed  his  seat.  He  hastily  swallowed 
his  soup  which  was  completely  cold.  "  Why,"  said  he  to 
himself,  "  did  I  not  think  of  it  before  ?  Poor  humanity  ! 
I  am  growing  old,  and  my  brain  is-  worn  out.  For  it  is 
clear  as  day ;  the  circumstances  all  point  to  that  conclusion." 
He  rang  the  bell  placed  on  the  table  beside  him  ;  the  ser- 
vant reappeared.  "  Bring  the  roast,"  he  said,  "  and  leave 
me  to  myself." 

"  Yes,"  continued  he  furiously  carving  a  leg  of  presah 
mutton, — "  Yes,"  there  is  a  child,  and  here  is  his  history  ! 


THE  LE ROUGE  CASE.  35 

Widow  Lerouge  is  in  the  service  of  a  great  lady,  im- 
mensely rich.  Her  husband,  a  sailor  probably,  departs 
on  a  long  voyage.  The  lady,  who  has  a  lover,  finds  her- 
self enceinte.  She  confides  in  Widow  Lerouge,  and  with 
her  assistance  is  clandestinely  confined." 

He  rang  again.  "  Manette,  bring  the  dessert,  and  then 
leave  the  room  !  " 

Certainly  such  a  master  was  unworthy  of  so  excellent  a 
cook.  He  would  have  been  puzzled  to  say  what  he  had 
eaten  for  his  dinner,  or  even  what  he  was  eating  at  that  mo- 
ment ;  it  was  some  preserved  pears. 

"  But  the  child  ;  what  has  become  of  the  child  ?  "  mur- 
mured he.  "  Has  it  been  destroyed  ?  No ;  for  Widow 
Lerouge,  an  accomplice  in  an  infanticide,  would  be  no 
longer  formidable.  The  lover  wished  it  to  live,  and  it  was 
confided  to  the  care  of  our  widow,  by  whom  it  has  been 
reared.  They  have  been  able  to  take  the  child  from  her, 
but  not  the  proofs  of  its  birth  and  its  existence.  That's  what 
bothered  them.  The  father  is  the  man  with  the  fine  car- 
riage ;  the  mother  is  no  other  than  the  woman  who  came  with 
the  handsome  young  man.  Ha  !  ha  !  I  can  well  believe  the 
dear  old  dame  wanted  for  nothing  !  Some  secrets  are 
worth  a  farm  in  Brie.  Two  persons  to  fleece.  It  is  true 
though  that  indulging  in  a  lover,  her  expenses  were  bound 
to  increase  every  year.  Poor  humanity  !  the  heart  has  its 
wants.  She  turned  the  screw  too  much  and  it  broke. 
She  has  threatened.  They  have  been  frightened,  and  said, 
'  Let's  put  a  stop  to  it ! '  But  who  has  been  charged  with 
the  commission  ?  The  papa  ?  No ;  he  is  too  old.  It  is 
the  son !  of  course.  He  wished  to  save  his  mother,  the 
pretty  boy  !  He  has  cooled  the  widow  and  burnt  the 
proofs  !  " 

Manette  all  this  time  had  her  ear  to  the  keyhole,  and 
listened  intently.  From  time  to  time  she  gleaned  a  word, 
an  oath,  the  noise  of  a  blow  upon  the  table ;  but  that  was 
all.  "  For  certain,"  thought  she,  "  he  is  worried  about  his 
women.  They  want  him  to  believe  he  is  a  father."  Her 
curiosity  so  overcame  her  prudence,  that  being  no  longer 
able  to  withstand  the  temptation,  she  ventured  to  open  the 
door  a  little  way.  "  Did  you  call  for  your  coffee,  sir?  " 
she  stammered  timidly. 

"  No,  but  you  may  bring  it  to  me,"  replied  old  Tabaret. 
He  attempted  to  swallow  it  at  a  gulp,  but  scalded  himself 


36  THE  LEKOUGE  CASE, 

so  severely  that  the  pain  brought  him  suddenly  from 
speculation  to  reality. 

"  Thunder  !  "  growled  he  :  "  but  it  is  hot !  Devil  take 
the  case !  it  has  set  me  beside  myself.  They  are  right 
when  they  say  I  am  too  enthusiastic.  But  who  amongst 
the  whole  lot  of  them  could  have,  by  the  sole  exercise  of 
observation  and  reason,  established  the  whole  history  of 
the  assassination  ?  Certainly  not  Gevrol,  poor  man ! 
Won't  he  feel  vexed  and  humiliated,  being  altogether  out 
of  it.  Shall  I  seek  M.  Daburon  ?  No,  not  yet.  The  night 
is  necessary  to  me  to  sift  to  the  bottom  all  the  particulars, 
and  arrange  my  ideas  systematically.  But.  on  the  other 
hand,  if  I  sit  here  all  alone,  this  confounded  case  will  keep 
me  in  a  fever  of  speculation,  and  as  I  have  just  eaten  a 
great  deal,  I  may  get  an  attack  of  indigestion.  My  faith  ! 
I  will  call  upon  Madame  Gerdy :  she  has  been  ailing  for 
some  days  past.  I  will  have  a  chat  with  Noel,  and  that 
will  change  the  course  of  my  ideas."  He  got  up  from  the 
table,  put  on  his  overcoat,  and  took  his  hat  and  cane. 

"  Are  you  going  out,  sir  ?  "  asked  Manette. 

"  Yes," 

"  Shall  you  be  late  ?  " 

"  Possibly." 

"  But  you  will  return  to-night  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know."  One  minute  later,  M.  Tabaret  was 
ringing  his  friend's  bell, 

Madame  Gerdy  lived  in  respectable  style.  She  pos- 
sessed sufficient  for  her  wants;  and  her  son's  practice,  al- 
ready large,  had  made  them  almost  rich.-  She  lived  very 
quietly,  and  with  the  exception  of  one  or  two  friends, 
whom  Noel  occasionally  invited  to  dinner,  received  very 
few  visitors.  During  more  than  fifteen  years  that  M. 
Tabaret  came  familiarly  to  the  apartments,  he  had  only 
met  the  cure  of  the  parish,  one  of  Noel's  old  professors, 
and  Madame  Gerdy's  brother,  a  retired  colonel.  When 
these  three  visitors  happened  to  call  on  the  same  evening, 
an  event  somewhat  rare,  they  played  at  a  round  game 
called  Boston ;  on  other  evenings  piquet  or  all-fours  was 
the  rule.  Noel,  however,  seldom  remained  in  the  drawing- 
room,  but  shut  himself  up  after  dinner  in  his  study,  which 
with  his  bedroom  formed  a  separate  apartment  to  his 
mother's,  and  immersed  himself  in  his  law  papers.  He 
was  supposed  to  work  far  into  the  night.  Often  in  winter 


THE  LEKOUGE  CASE.  37 

his  lamp  was  not  extinguished  before  dawn.  Mother  and 
son  absolutely  lived  for  one  another,  as  all  who  knew 
them  took  pleasure  in  repeating.  They  loved  and  hon- 
oured Noel  for  the  care  he  bestowed  upon  his  mother,  for 
his  more  than  filial  devotion,  for  the  sacrifices  which  all 
supposed  he  made  in  living  at  his  age  like  an  old  man. 
The  neighbours  were  in  the  habit  of  contrasting  the  con- 
duct of  this  exemplary  young  man  with  that  of  M.  Tabaret, 
the  incorrigible  old  rake,  the  hairless  dangler.  As  for 
Madame  Gerdy,  she  saw  nothing  but  her  son  in  all  the 
world.  Her  love  had  actually  taken  the  form  of  worship. 
In  Noel  she  believed  she  saw  united  all  the  physical  and 
moral  perfections.  To  her  he  seemed  of  a  superior  order 
to  the  rest  of  humanity.  If  he  spoke,  she  was  silent  and 
listened :  his  word  was  a  command,  his  advice  a  decree  of 
Providence.  To  care  for  her  son,  study  his  tastes,  antici- 
pate his  wishes,  was  the  sole  aim  of  her  life.  She  was  a 
mother. 

"  Is  Madame  Gerdy  visible  ?  "  asked  old  Tabaret  of 
the  girl  who  opened  the  door;  and,  without  waiting  for  an 
answer,  he  walked  into  the  room  like  a  man  assured  that  his 
presence  cannot  be  inopportune,  and  ought  to  be  agreea- 
ble. 

A  single  candle  lighted  the  drawing-room,  which  was 
not  in  its  accustomed  order.  The  small  marble-top  table, 
usually  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  had  been  rolled  into  a 
corner.  Madame  Gerdy's  large  arm-chair  was  near  the 
window ;  a  newspaper,  all  crumpled,  lay  before  it  on  the 
carpet.  The  amateur  detective  took  in  the  whole  at  a 
glance.  "  Has  any  accident  happened  ?  "  he  asked  of  the 
girl. 

"  Do  not  speak  of  it,  sir :  we  have  just  had  a  fright ! 
oh,  such  a  fright !  " 

"  What  was  it  ?  tell  me  quickly  !  " 

"  You  know  that  madame  has  been  ailing  for  the  lasi 
month.  She  has  eaten  I  may  say  almost  nothing.  This 
morning,  even,  she  said  to  me  " — 

"  Yes,  yes  !  but  this  evening  ?  " 

"  After  her  dinner,  madame  went  into  the  drawing-room 
as  usual.  She  sat  down  and  took  up  one  of  M.  Npel's 
newspapers.  Scarcely  had  she  begun  to  read,  when  she 
uttered  a  great  cry, — oh,  a  terrible  cry  !  We  hastened  to 
her;  madame  had  fallen  on  to  the  floor,  as  one  dead,  M. 


33  THE  LEROUGE  CASK. 

Noel  raised  her  in  his  arms,  and  carried  her  into  her  room. 
I  wanted  to  fetch  the  doctor,  sir,  but  he  said  there  was  no 
need  ;  he  knew  what  was  the  matter  with  her." 

"  And  how  is  she  now  ?  " 

"  She  has  come  to  her  senses ;  that  is  to  say,  I  suppose 
so ;  for  M.  Noel  made  me  leave  the  room.  All  that  I  do 
know  is,  that  a  little  while  ago  she  was  talking,  and  talk- 
ing very  loudly  too,  for  I  heard  her.  Ah,  sir,  it  is  all  the 
same,  very  strange  ?  " 

"  What  is  strange  !  " 

"  What  I  heard  Madame  Gerdy  say  to  M.  Noel." 

"  Ah  ha  !  my  girl !  "  sneered  old  Tabaret ;  "  so  you 
listen  at  key-holes,  do  you  ?  " 

"  No,  sir,  I  assure  you  ;  but  madame  cried  out  like  one 
lost.  She  said," — 

"  My  girl !  "  interrupted  old  Tabaret  severely,  "  one  al- 
ways hears  wrong  through  key-holes.  Ask  Manette  if 
that  is  not  so." 

The  poor  girl,  thoroughly  confused,  sought  to  excuse 
herself. 

"  Enough,  enough ! "  said  the  old  man.  Return  to 
your  work :  you  need  not  disturb  M.  Noel ;  I  can  wait  for 
him  very  well  here." 

And  satisfied  with  the  reproof  he  had  administered,  he 
picked  up  the  newspaper,  and  seated  himself  beside  the 
fire,  placing  the  candle  near  him  so  as  to  read  with  ease. 
A  minute  had  scarcely  elapsed  when  he  in  his  turn 
bounded  in  his  chair,  and  stifled  a  cry  of  instinctive  terror 
and  surprise.  These  were  the  first  words  that  met  his 
eye. 

"  A  horrible  crime  has  plunged  the  village  of  La  Jon- 
chere  in  consternation.  A  poor  widow,  named  Lerouge, 
who  enjoyed  the  general  esteem  and  love  of  the  commu- 
nity, has  been  assassinated  in  her  home.  The  officers  of 
the  law  have  made  the  usual  preliminary  investigations,  and 
everything  leads  us  to  believe  that  the  police  are  already  on 
the  track  of  the  author  of  this  dastardly  crime." 

"  Thunder !  "  said  old  Tabaret  to  himself,  "  can  it  be  that 
Madame  Gerdy?  " — The  idea  but  flashed  across  his  mind  ; 
he  fell  back  into  his  chair,  and,  shrugging  his  shoulders, 
murmured, — "  Really  this  affair  of  La  Jonchere  is  driving 
me  out  of  in y  senses!  I  can  think  of  nothing  but  this 
Widow  Lerouge.  I  shall  be  seeing  her  in  everything  now." 


77/A  LKKOl'CK  CASE.  39 

An  uncontrollable  curiosity  caused  him  to  peruse  the  e  itire 
paper.  He  found  nothing,  however,  with  the  exception  of 
those  lines,  to  justify  or  explain  a  faintingfit,  a  cry,  or  even 
the  slighest  emotion. 

"  This  coincidence  is  extremely  singular,"  thought  the 
incorrigible  police  agent.  Then,  noticing  that  the  news- 
paper was  slightly  torn  at  the  lower  part,  and  crumpled,  as 
if  by  a  convulsive  grasp,  he  repeated, — "  It  is  very 
strange  !  " 

At  this  moment  the  door  of  Madame  Gerdy's  bed-room 
opened,  and  Noel  appeared  on  the  threshold.  Without 
doubt  the  accident  to  his  mother  had  greatly  excited  him  ; 
for  he  was  very  pale,  and  his  countenance,  ordinarily  so 
calm,  wore  an  expression  of  great  worry.  He  appeared 
surprised  to  see  M.  Tabaret. 

"  Ah,  my  dear  Noel !  "  cried  the  old  fellow.  "  Ease  my 
anxiety.  How  is  your  mother  ?  " 

"  Madame  Gerdy  is  as  well  as  can  be  expected." 

"  Madame  Gerdy  !  "  repeated  the  old  fellow  with  an  air 
of  astonishment ;  then  he  continued,  "  It  is  plain  you  have 
been  seriously  alarmed." 

"  In  truth,"  replied  the  barrister,  seating  himself,  "  I 
have  experienced  a  rude  shock." 

Noel  was  visibly  making  the  greatest  efforts  to  appear 
calm,  to  listen  to  the  old  fellow,  and  to  answer  him.  M. 
Tabaret,  full  of  anxiety,  perceived  nothing.  "  At  least, 
my  dear  boy,"  said  he,  "  tell  me  how  this  happened  !  " 

The  young  man  hesitated  a  moment,  as  if  debating  with 
himself.  No  doubt  he  was  unprepared  for  this  point  blank 
question,  and  knew  not  what  answer  to  make ;  at  last 
he  replied,  "  Madame  Gerdy  has  received  a  severe 
blow  in  learning  from  a  paragraph  in  this  paper  that  a 
woman  in  whom  she  took  a  strong  interest  has  been  mur- 
dered." 

"  Well  I  never  !  "  cried  old  Tabaret. 

The  old  fellow  was  so  astonished,  that  he  almost  betray- 
ed himself,  and  revealed  his  connection  with  the  police. 
Pie  was  on  the  point  of  saying  : — "  What !  your  mother 
knew  the  Widow  Lerouge?  "  By  an  effort  he  restrained 
himself.  He  had  more  trouble  to  hide  his  satisfaction,  for 
he  was  delighted  to  find  himself  so  unexpectedly  on  the 
trace  of  the  antecedents  of  the  victim  of  La  Jonchere. 

"  She  was,"    continued    Noel,  "  the    slave   of  Madame 


40  THE  LEROL'GZ  CASE. 

Gerdy,  devoted  to  her  in  every  way  !  She  would  have  sac- 
rificed herself  for  hex  at  a  sign  from  her  hand." 

"Then  you,  my  dear  friend,  you  knew  this  poor  wo- 
man ! " 

"  I  had  not  seen  her  for  a  very  long  time,"  replied  Noel, 
whose  voice  seemed  broken  by  emotion,  "  but  I  knew  her 
well.  I  ought  even  to  say  I  loved  her  tenderly.  She  was 
my  nurse." 

"  She,  this  woman  ?  "  stammered  old  Tabaret. 

This  time  he  was  thunderstruck.  Widow  Lerouge  Noel's 
nurse  ?  He  was  most  unfortunate.  Providence  had  evi- 
dently chosen  him  for  its  instrument,  and  was  leading  him 
by  the  hand.  He  was  about  to  obtain  all  the  information, 
which  half  an  hour  ago  he  had  almost  despaired  of  pro- 
curing. He  remained  seated  before  Noel  amazed  and 
speechless.  Yet  he  understood,  that,  unless  he  would 
compromise  himself,  he  must  speak.  "  It  is  a  great  misfor- 
tune," he  murmured  at  last. 

"  What  it  is  for  Madame  Gerdy,  I  cannot  say,"  replied 
Noel  with  a  gloomy  air  ;  "  but,  for  me,  it  is  an  overwhelm- 
ing misfortune  !  I  am  struck  to  the  heart  by  the  blow 
which  has  slain  this  poor  woman.  Her  death,  M.  Tabaret, 
has  annihilated  all  my  dreams  of  the  future,  and  probably 
overthrown  my  most  cherished  hopes.  I  had  to  avenge 
myself  for  cruel  injuries ;  her  death  breaks  the  weapon  in 
my  hands,  and  reduces  me  to  despair,  to  impotence.  Alas  ! 
I  am  indeed  unfortunate." 

"You  unfortunate?"  cried  old  Tabaret,  singularly  af- 
fected by  his  dear  Noel's  sadness.  "  In  heaven's  name, 
what  has  happened  to  you  ?  " 

"  I  suffer,"  murmured  the  barrister,  "  and  very  cruelly. 
Not  only  do  I  fear  that  the  injustice  is  irreparable ;  but 
here  am  I  totally  without  defence  delivered  over  to  the 
shafts  of  calumny.  I  may  be  accused  of  inventing  false- 
hood, of  being  an  ambitious  intriguer,  having  no  regard  for 
truth,  no  scruples  of  conscience." 

Old  Tabaret  was  puzzled.  What  connection  could  pos- 
sibly exist  between  Noel's  honour  and  the  assassination  at 
La  Jonchere  ?  His  brain  was  in  a  whirl.  A  thousand 
troubled  and  confused  ideas  jostled  one  another  in  inex- 
tricable confusion.  "  Come,  come,  Noel,"  said  he,  "  com- 
pose yourself.  Who  would  believe  any  calumny  uttered 
about  you  ?  Take  courage,  have  you  not  friends  ?  am  I 


7 '///•:  l.EROl'CE  CASE.  41 

not  here  ?  Have  confidence,  tell  me  what  troubles  you, 
and  it  will  be  strange,  indeed  if  between  us  two — " 

The  barrister  started  to  his  feet,  impressed  by  a  sudden 
resolution. 

"  Well  !  yes,"  interrupted  he,  "  yes,  you  shall  know  all. 
In  fact,  I  am  tired  of  carrying  all  alone  a  secret  that  is  sti- 
fling me.  The  part  I  have  been  playing  irritates  and  wea- 
ries me.  I  have  need  of  a  friend  to  console  me.  I  require  a 
counsellor  whose  voice  will  encourage  me,  for  one  is  a  bad 
judge  of  his  own  cause,  and  this  crime  has  plunged  me  in- 
to an  abyss  of  hesitations." 

"  You  know,"  replied  M.  Tabaret  kindly,  "  that  I  regard 
you  as  my  own  son.  Do  not  scruple  to  let  me  serve  you." 

"  Know  then,"  commenced  the  barrister, — "  but  no,  not 
here  :  what  I  have  to  say  must  not  be  overheard.  Let  us 
go  into  my  study." 

IV. 

WHEN  Noel  and  old  Tabaret  were  seated  face  to  face  in 
Noel's  study,  and  the  door  had  been  carefully  shut,  the 
old  fellow  felt  uneasy,  and  said  :  "  What  if  your  mother 
should  require  anything." 

"  If  Madame  Gerdy  rings,"  replied  the  young  man  drily, 
"  the  servant  will  attend  to  her." 

This  indifference,  this  cold  disdain,  amazed  old  Tabaret, 
accustomed  as  he  was  to  the  affectionate  relations  always 
existing  between  mother  and  son.  "  For  heaven's  sake, 
Noel,"  said  he,  "  calm  yourself.  Do  not  allow  yourself  to 
be  overcome  by  a  feeling  of  irritation.  You  have,  I  see, 
some  little  pique  against  your  mother,  which  you  will  have 
forgotten  to-morrow..  Don't  speak  of  her  in  this  icy  tone  ; 
but  tell  me  what  you  mean  by  calling  her  Madame  Gerdy  ?  " 
"  What  I  mean  ?  "  rejoined  the  barrister  in  a  hollow 
tone, — "  what  I  mean  ?  "  Then  rising  from  his  arm-chair, 
he  took  several  strides  about  the  room,  and,  returning  to 
his  place  near  the  old  fellow,  said, — "  Because,  M.  Tabaret, 
Madame  Gerdy  is  not  my  mother  !  " 

This  sentence  fell  like  a  heavy  blow  on  the  head  of  the 
amateur  detective.  "  Oh  !  "  he  said,  in  the  tone  one  as- 
sumes when  rejecting  an  absurd  proposition,  "  do  you 
really  know  what  you  are  saying,  Noel  ?  Is  it  credible  ? 
Is  it  probable  ?  " 


42  THE  LEROUGE  CASE. 

"  It  is  improbable,"  replied  Noel  with  a  peculiar  empha- 
sis which  was  habitual  to  him  :  "  it  is  incredible,  if  you 
will ;  but  yet  it  is  true.  That  is  to  say,  for  thirty-three 
years,  ever  since  my  birth,  this  woman  has  played  a  most 
marvellous  and  unworthy  comedy,  to  ennoble  and  enrich 
her  son, — for  she  has  a  son, — at  my  expense  !  " 

"  My  friend,"  commenced  old  Tabaret,  who  in  the  back- 
ground of  the  picture  presented  by  this  singular  revela- 
tion saw  again  the  phantom  of  the  murdered  Widow  Le- 
rouge. 

But  Noel  heard  not,  and  seemed  hardly  in  a  state  to 
hear.  The  young  man,  usually  so  cold,  so  self-contained, 
could  no  longer  control  his  anger.  At  the  sound  of  his 
own  voice,  he  became  more  and  more  animated,  as  a  good 
horse  might  at  the  jingling  of  his  harness.  "  Was  ever 
man,"  continued  he,  "  more  cruelly  deceived,  more  misera- 
bly duped,  than  I  have  been  !  I,  who  loved  this  woman, 
who  knew  not  how  to  show  my  affection  for  her,  who,  for 
her  sake,  sacrificed  my  youth !  How  she  must  have 
laughed  at  me  !  Her  infamy  dates  from  the  moment 
when  for  the  first  time  she  took  me  on  her  knees  ;  and, 
until  these  few  days  past,  she  has  sustained  without  falter- 
ing her  execrable  role.  Her  love  for  me  was  nothing  but 
hypocrisy  !  her  devotion,  falsehood  !  her  caresses,  lies  ! 
And  I  adored  her  !  Ah  !  why  can  I  not  take  back  all  the 
embraces  I  bestowed  on  her  in  exchange  for  her  Judas 
kisses  ?  And  for  what  was  all  this  heroism  of  deception, 
this  caution,  this  duplicity  ?  To  betray  me  more  securely, 
to  despoil  me,  to  rob  me,  to  give  to  her  bastard  all  that 
lawfully  appertained  to  me  ;  my  name,  a  noble  name,  my 
fortune,  a  princely  inheritance  !  " 

"  We  are  getting  near  it !  "  thought  old  Tabaret,  who 
was  fast  relapsing  into  the  colleague  of  M.  Gevrol ;  then 
aloud  he  said,  "  This  is  very  serious,  all  that  you  have 
been  saying,  my  dear  Noel,  terribly  serious.  We  must  be- 
lieve Madame  Gerdy  possessed  of  an  amount  of  audacity 
and  ability  rarely  to  be  met  with  in  a  woman.  She  must 
have  been  assisted,  advised,  compelled  perhaps.  Who 
have  been  her  accomplices  ?  She  could  never  have  man- 
aged this  unaided  ;  perhaps  her  husband  himself." 

"  Her  husband  !  "  interrupted  the  barrister,  with  a  laugh. 
"  Ah  !  you  too  have  believed  her  a  widow.  Pshaw  !  She 
never  had  a  husband,  the  defunct  Gerdy  never  existed. 


77/A'  LKROUCE  CASE.  43 

I  was  a  bastard,  dear  M.  Tnbaret,  very  much  a  bastard  ; 
Noel,  son  of  the  girl  Gerdy  and  an  unknown  father !  " 

"  Ah  !  "  cried  the  old  fellow  :  "  that  then  was  the  reason 
why  your  marriage  with  Mademoiselle  Levernois  was 
broken  off  four  years  ago  ?  " 

"  Yes,  my  friend,  that  was  the  reason.  And  what  mis- 
fortunes might  have  been  averted  by  this  marriage  with  a 
young  girl  whom  I  loved  !  However  I  did  not  complain 
to  her  whom  I  then  called  my  mother.  She  wept,  she  ac- 
cused herself,  she  seemed  ready  to  die  of  grief  :  and  I,  poor 
fool !  I  consoled  her  as  best  I  could,  I  dried  her  tears,  and 
excused  her  in  her  own  eyes.  No,  there  was  no  husband. 
Do  such  women  as  she  have  husbands  ?  She  was  my 
father's  mistress  ;  and,  on  the  day  when  he  had  had  enough 
of  her,  he  took  up  his  hat  and  threw  her  three  hundred  thou- 
sand francs,  the  price  of  the  pleasures  she  had  given  him." 

Noel  would  probably  have  continued  much  longer  to 
pour  forth  his  furious  denunciations  ;  but  M.  Tabaret  stop- 
ped him.  The  old  fellow  felt  he  was  on  the  point  of  learn- 
ing a  history  in  every  way  similar  to  that  which  he  had  im- 
agined ;  and  his  impatience  to  know  whether  he  had 
guessed  aright,  almost  caused  him  to  forget  to  express  any 
sympathy  for  his  friend's  misfortunes. 

"  My  dear  boy,"  said  he,  "  do  not  let  us  digress.  You 
ask  me  for  advice  ;  and  I  am  perhaps  the  best  adviser  you 
could  have  chosen.  Come,  then,  to  the  point.  How  have 
you  learned  this  ?  Have  you  any  proofs  ?  where  are 
they?". 

The  decided  tone  in  which  the  old  fellow  spoke,  should 
no  doubt,  have  awakened  Noel's  attention  ;  but  he  did  not 
notice  it.  He  had  not  leisure  to  reflect.  He  therefore 
answered, — "  I  have  known  the  truth  for  three  weeks  past. 
I  made  the  discovery  by  chance.  I  have  important  moral 
proofs  ;  but  they  are  mere  presumptive  evidence.  A  word 
from  Widow  Lerouge,  one  single  word,  would  have  rend' 
ered  them  decisive.  This  word  she  cannot  now  pronunce, 
since  they  have  killed  her  ;  but  she  had  said  it  to  me. 
Now,  Madame  Gerdy  will  deny  all.  I  know  her  ;  with  her 
head  on  the  block,  she  will  deny  it.  My  father  doubtless 
will  turn  against  me.  I  am  certain,  and  I  possess  proofs ; 
now  this  crime  makes  my  certitude  but  a  vain  boast,  and 
renders  my  proofs  null  and  void  !  " 

"  Explain  it  all  to  me,"  said  old  Tabaret  after  a  pause, 


44  TIJE  LEROUCE  CASE. 

— "  all,  you  understand.  We  old  ones  are  sometimes  able 
to  give  good  advice.  We  will  decide  what's  to  be  done 
afterwards." 

"Three  weeks  ago,"  commenced  Noel,  "searching  for 
some  old  documents,  I  opened  Madame  Gerdy's  secretary. 
Accidentally  I  displaced  one  of  the  small  shelves  :  some 
papers  tumbled  out,  and  a  packet  of  letters  fell  in  front 
of  my  eyes.  A  mechanical  impulse,  which  I  cannot  ex- 
plain, prompted  me  to  untie  the  string,  and,  impelled  by 
an  invincible  curiosity,  I  read  the  first  letter  which"  came 
to  my  hand." 

"  You  did  wrong,"  remarked  M.  Tabaret. 

"  Be  it  so ;  anyhow  I  read.  At  the  end  of  ten  lines,  I 
was  convinced  that  these  letters  were  from  my  father, 
whose  name,  Madame  Gerdy,  in  spite  of  my  prayers,  had 
always  hidden  from  me.  You  can  understand  my  emo- 
tion. I  carried  off  the  packet,  shut  myself  up  in  this  room, 
and  devoured  the  correspondence  from  beginning  to 
end." 

"  And  you  have  been  cruelly  punished  my  poor  boy  !  " 

"  It  is  true  ;  but  who  in  my  position  could  have  resist- 
ed ?  These  letters  have  given  me  great  pain  ;  but  they 
afford  the  proof  of  what  I  just  now  told  you." 

"  You  have  at  least  preserved  these  letters  ?  " 

"  I  have  them  here,  M.  Tabaret,"  replied  Noel,  '"  and, 
that  you  may  understand  the  case  in  which  I  have  request- 
ed your  advice,  I  am  going  to  read  them  to  you." 

The  barrister  opened  one  of  the  drawers  of  his  bureau, 
pressed  an  invisible  spring,  and  from  a  hidden  receptacle 
constructed  in  the  thick  upper  shelf,  he  drew  out  a  bundle 
of  letters.  "  You  understand,  my  friend,"  he  resumed, 
"  that  I  will  spare  you  all  insignificant  details,  which, 
however,  add  their  own  weight  to  the  rest.  I  am  only  go- 
ing to  deal  with  the  more  important  facts,  treating  directly 
of  the  affair." 

Old  Tabaret  nestled  in  his  arm-chair,  burning  with  curi- 
osity ;  his  face  and  his  eyes  expressing  the  most  anxious 
attention.  After  a  selection,  which  he  was  some  time  in 
making,  the  barrister  opened  a  letter,  and  commenced 
reading  in  a  voice  which  trembled  at  times,  in  spite  of  his 
efforts  to  render  it  calm. 

" '  My  clearly  loved  Valerie,' — Valerie,"  said  he,  "  is  Mad- 
ame Gerclv." 


THE  LE ROUGE  CASE.  45 

"  I  know,  I  know.     Do  not  interrupt  yourself." 

Noel  then  resumed. 

"  '  My  dearly  loved  Valerie, 

"  '  This  is  a  happy  day.  This  morning  I  received  your 
darling  letter,  I  have  covered  it  with  kisses,  I  have  re-read 
it  a  hundred  times  ;  and  now  it  has  gone  to  join  the  others 
here  upon  my  heart.  This  letter,  oh,  my  love  !  has  nearly 
killed  me  with  joy.  You  were  not  deceived,  then  ;  it  was 
true  !  Heaven  has  blessed  our  love.  We  shall  have  a  son. 

" '  I  shall  have  a  son,  the  living  image  of  my  adored 
Valerie  !  Oh  !  why  are  we  separated  by  such  an  immense 
distance  ?  Why  have  I  not  wings  that  I  might  fly  to  your 
feet  and  fall  into  your  arms,  full  of  the  sweetest  voluptu- 
ousness !  No  !  never  as  at  this  moment  have  I  cursed  the 
fatal  union  imposed  upon  me  by  an  inexorable .  family, 
whom  my  tears  could  not  move.  I  cannot  help  hating  this 
woman,  who,  in  spite  of  me  bears  my  name,  innocent  vic- 
tim though  she  is  of  the  barbarity  of  our  parents.  And, 
to  complete  my  misery,  she  too  will  soon  render  me  a  father. 
WTho  can  describe  my  sorrow  when  I  compare  the  fortunes 
of  these  two  children  ? 

"'The  one,  the  son  of  the  object  of  my  tenderest  love, 
will  have  neither  father  nor  family,  nor  even  a  name,  since 
a  law  framed  to  make  lovers  unhappy  prevents  my  acknowl- 
edging him.  While  the  other,  the  son  of  my  detested  wife, 
by  the  sole  fact  of  his  birth,  will  be  rich,  noble,  surrounded 
by  devotion  and  homage,  with  a  great  position  in  the  world. 
I  cannot  bear  the  thought  of  this  terrible  injustice  !  How 
it  is  to  be  prevented,  I  do  not  know  :  but  rest  assured  I 
shall  find  a  way.  It  is  to  him  who  is  the  mosit  desired, 
the  most  cherished,  the  most  beloved,  that  the  greater  for- 
tune should  come  ;  and  come  to  him  it  shall,  for  I  so  will  it.'  " 

"  From  where  is  that  letter  dated  ?  "  asked  old  Tabaret. 
The  style  in  which  it  was  written  had  already  settled  one 
point  in  his  mind. 

"  See,"  replied  Noel.  He  handed  the  letter  to  the  old 
fellow,  who  read, — "  Venice,  December,  1828." 

"You  perceive,"  resumed  the  barrister,  "all  the  import- 
ance of  this  first  letter.  It  is  like  a  brief  statement  of  the 
facts.  My  father,  married  in  spite  of  himself,  adores  his 
mistress,  and  detests  his  wife.  Both  find  themselves  en- 
(vinte  at  the  same  time,  and  his  feelings  towards  the  two 
infants  about  to  be  born,  are  not  at  all  concealed.  Towards 


46  TIH-:  LEROL'Cl:   CASE. 

the  end  one  almost  sees  peeping  forth  the  germ  ef  the 
idea  which  later  on  he  will  not  be  afraid  to  put  into  execu- 
tion, in  defiance  of  all  law  human  or  divine  !  " 

He  was  speaking  as  though  pleading  the  cause,  when 
old  Tabaret  interrupted  him.  "  It  is  not  necessary  to  ex- 
plain it,"  said  he.  "  Thank  goodness,  what  you  have  just 
read  is  explicit  enough.  I  am  not  an  adept  in  such  mat- 
ters, I  am  as  simple  as  a  juryman  ;  however  I  understand 
it  admirably  so  far." 

"  I  pass  over  several  letters,"  continued  Noel,  "  and  I 
come  to  this  one  dated  Jan.  23,  1829.  It  is  very  long, 
and  filled  with  matters  altogether  foreign  to  the  subject 
which  now  occupies  us.  However,  it  contains  two  pas- 
sages, which  attest  the  slow  but  steady  growth  of  my 
father's  project.  '  h.  destiny,  more  powerful  than  my  will, 
chains  me  to  this  country  ;  but  my  soul  is  with  you,  my 
Valerie  !  Without  ceasing,  my  thoughts  rest  upon  the 
adored  pledge  of  our  love  which  moves  within  you.  Take 
care,  my  darling,  take  care  of  yourself,  now  doubly  precious. 
It  is  the  lover,  the  father,  who  implores  you.  The  last  part 
of  your  letter  wounds  my  heart.  Is  it  not  an  insult  to  me, 
for  you  to  express  anxiety  as  to  the  future  of  our  child  ? 
Oh  heaven  !  she  loves  me,  she  knows  me,  and  yet  she 
doubts ! ' 

"  I  skip,"  said  Noel,  "  two  pages  of  passionate  rhapsody, 
and  stop  at  these  few  lines  at  the  end.  'The  countess's 
condition  causes  her  to  suffer  very  much  !  Unfortunate 
wife  !  I  hate  and  at  the  same  time  pity  her.  She  seems 
to  divine  the  reason  of  my  sadness  and  my  coldness.  By 
her  timid  submission  and  unalterable  sweetness,  one  would 
think  she  sought  pardon  for  our  unhappy  union.  Poor 
sacrificed  creature  !  She  also  may  have  given  her  heart  to 
another,  before  being  dragged  to  the  altar.  Our  fates 
would  then  be  the  same.  Your  good  heart  will  pardon  my 
pitying  her.' 

"That  one  was  my  mother,"  cried  the  barrister  in  a 
trembling  voice.  "A 'saint !  And  he  asks  pardon  for  the 
pity  she  inspires!  Poor  woman."  He  passed  his  hands 
over  his  eyes,  as  if  to  force  back  his  tears,  and  added, — 
"  She  is  dead  !  " 

In  spite  of  his  impatience,  old  Tabaret  dared  not  utter 
a  word.  Besides  he  felt  keenly  the  profound  sorrow  of 
his  young  friend,  and  respected  it.  After  a  rather  long 


THE  LEROUGE  CASE.  47 

silence,  Noel  raised  his  head,  and  returned  to  the  cor- 
respondence. 

"  AH  the  letters  which  follow,"  said  he,  "  carry  traces 
of  the  preoccupation  of  my  father's  mind  on  the  subject 
of  his  bastard  son.  I  lay  them,  however,  aside.  But  this 
is  what  strikes  me  in  the  one  written  from  Rome,  on 
March  5,  1829.  '  My  son,  our  son,  that  is  my  great,  my 
only  anxiety.  How  to  secure  for  him  the  future  position 
of  which  I  dream  ?  The  nobles  of  former  times  were  not 
worried  in  this  way.  In  those  days  I  would  have  gone  to 
the  king,  who,  with  a  word,  would  have  assured  the  child's 
position  in  the  world.  To-day,  the  king  who  governs  with 
difficulty  his  disaffected  subjects  can  do  nothing.  The 
nobility  has  lost  its  rights,  and  the  highest  in  the  land  are 
treated  the  same  as  the  meanest  peasants  ! '  Lower  down 
I  find, — '  My  heart  loves  to  picture  to  itself  the  likeness 
of  our  son.  He  will  have  the  spirit,  the  mind,  the  beauty, 
the  grace,  all  the  fascinations  of  his  mother.  He  will  in- 
herit from  his  father,  pride,  valour,  and  the  sentiments  of 
a  noble  race.  And  the  other,  what  will  he  be  like  ?  I 
tremble  to  think  of  it.  Hatred  can  only  engender  a 
monster.  Heaven  reserves  strength  and  beauty  for  the 
children  of  love  ! '  The  monster,  that  is  I ! "  said  the 
barrister,  with  intense  rage.  "  Whilst  the  other — But  let 
us  ignore  these  preliminaries  to  an  outrageous  action.  I 
only  desired  up  to  the  present  to  show  you  the  aberration 
of  my  father's  reason  under  the  influence  of  his  passion. 
We  shall  soon  come  to  the  point." 

M.  Tabaret  was  astonished  at  the  strength  of  this  pas- 
sion, of  which  Noel  was  disturbing  the  ashes.  Perhaps 
he  felt  it  all  the  more  keenly  on  account  of  those  expres- 
sions which  recalled  his  own  youth.  He  understood  how 
irresistible  must  have  been  the  strength  of  such  a  love ; 
and  he  trembled  to  speculate  as  to  the  result. 

"  Here  is,"  resumed  Noel,  holding  up  a  sheet  of  paper, 
"  not  one  of  those  interminable  epistles  from  which  I 
have  read  you  short  extracts,  but  a  simple  billet.  It  is 
dated  from  Venice  at  the  beginning  of  May ;  it  is  short 
but  nevertheless  decisive  ;  '  Dear  Valerie, — Tell  me,  as 
near  as  possible,  the  probable  date  of  your  confinement. 
I  await  your  reply  with  an  anxiety  'you  would  imagine, 
could  you  but  guess  my  projects  with  regard  to  our 
child  ! ' 


48  'J'lIE  LEKOL'^E  CASE. 

"I  do  not  kno\v,"  said  Noel,  "whether  Madame  Gercly 
understood ;  anyhow  she  must  have  answered  at  once, 
for  this  is  what  my  father  wrote  on  the  141)1  :  'Your 
reply,  my  darling,  is  what  I  did  not  dare  expect  it  to  be. 
The  project  I  had  conceived  is  now  practicable.  I  begin 
to  feel  more  calm  and  secure.  Our  son  shall  bear  my 
name  ;  I  shall  not  be  obliged  to  separate  myself  from  him. 
He  shall  be  reared  by  my  side,  in  my  mansion,  under  my 
eyes,  on  my  knees,  in  my  arms.  Shall  I  have  strength 
enough  to  bear  this  excess  of  happiness  ?  I  have  a  soul 
for  grief,  shall  I  have  one  for  joy  ?  Oh  !  my  adored  one, 
oh  !  my  precious  child,  fear  nothing,  my  heart  is  vast, 
enough  to  love  you  both  !  I  set  out  to-morrow  for  Naples, 
from  whence  I  shall  write  to  you  at  length.  Happen 
what  may,  however,  though  I  should  have  to  sacrifice  the 
important  interests  confided  to  me,  I  shall  be  in  Paris  for 
the  critical  hour.  My  presence  will  double  your  courage  ; 
the  strength  of  my  love  will  diminish  your  sufferings.'  " 

"  I  beg  your  pardon  for  interrupting  you,  Noel,"  said 
old  Tabaret,  "  do  you  know  what  important  affairs  de- 
tained your  father  abroad  ?  " 

"  My  father,  my  old  friend,"  replied  the  barrister,  "  was, 
in  spite  of  his  youth,  one  of  the  friends,  one  of  the  confi- 
dants, of  Charles  X. ;  and  he  had  been  entrusted  by  him 
with  a  secret  mission  to  Italy.  My  father  is  Count 
Rheteau  de  Commarin." 

"  Whew  !  "  exclaimed  the  old  fellow ;  and  the  better  to 
engrave  the  name  upon  his  memory,  he  repeated  several 
times,  between  his  teeth,  "  Rheteau  de  Commarin." 

For  a  few  minutes  Noel  remained  silent.  After  having 
appeared  to  do  everything  to  control  his  resentment,  he 
seemed  utterly  dejected,  as  though  he  had  formed  the  de- 
termination to  attempt  nothing  to  repair  the  injury  he  had 
sustained.  "  In  the  middle  of  the  month  of  May,  then," 
he  continued,  "  my  father  is  at  Naples.  It  is  whilst  there, 
that  he,  a  man  of  prudence  and  sense,  a  dignified  diplo- 
matist, a  nobleman,  prompted  by  an  insensate  passion, 
dares  to  confide  to  paper  this  most  monstrous  of  projects. 
Listen  !  '  My  adored  one, — It  is  Germain,  my  old  valet, 
who  will  hand  you  this  letter.  I  am  sending  him  to  Nor- 
mandy, charged  with  a  commission  of  the  most  delicate 
nature.  He  is  one  of  those  servitors  who  may  be  trusted 
implicitly.  The  time  has  come  for  me  to  explain  to  you 


THE  LEROUGE  CASE.  49 

my  projects  respecting  my  son.  In  three  weeks,  at  the 
latest,  I  shall  be  in  Paris.  If  my  previsions  are  not  de- 
ceived, the  countess  and  you  will  be  confined  at  the  same 
time.  An  interval  of  three  or  four  days  will  not  alter  my 
plan.  This  is  what  I  have  resolved.  My  two  children 
will  be  entrusted  to  two  nurses  of  N ,  where  my  es- 
tates are  nearly  all  situated.  One  of  these  women,  known 
to  Germain,  and  to  whom  I  am  sending  him,  will  be  in 
our  interests.  It  is  to  this  person,  Valerie,  that  our  son 
will  be  confided.  These  two  women  will  leave  Paris  the 
same  day,  Germain  accompanying  her  who  will  have 
charge  of  the  son  of  the  countess.  An  accident,  devised 
beforehand,  will  compel  these  two  women  to  pass  one 
night  on  the  road.  Germain  will  arrange  so  they  will 
have  to  sleep  in  the  same  inn,  and  in  the  same  chamber  ! 
During  the  night,  our  nurse  will  change  the  infants  in 
their  cradles.  I  have  foreseen  everything,  as  I  will  ex- 
plain to  you,  and  every  precaution  has  been  taken  to 
prevent  our  secret  from  escaping.  Germain  has  instruc- 
tions to  procure,  while  in  Paris,  two  sets  of  baby  linen 
exactly  similar.  Assist  him  with  your  advice. 

"  '  Your  maternal  heart,  my  sweet  Valerie,  may  perhaps 
bleed  at  the  thought  of  being  deprived  of  the  innocent 
caresses  of  your  child.  You  will  console  yourself  by 
thinking  of  the  position  secured  to  him  by  your  sacrifice. 
What  excess  of  tenderness  can  serve  him  as  powerfully  as 
this  separation  ?  As  to  the  other,  I  know  your  fond 
heart,  you  will  cherish  him.  Will  it  not  be  another  proof 
of  your  love  for  me  ?  Besides,  he  will  have  nothing  to 
complain  of.  Knowing  nothing  he  will  have  nothing  to 
regret ;  and  all  that  money  can  secure  in  this  world  he 
shall  have.  Do  not  tell  me  that  this  attempt  is  criminal. 
No,  my  well  beloved,  no.  The  success  of  our  plan  de- 
pends upon  so  many  unlikely  circumstances,  so  many 
coincidences,  independent  of  our  will,  that,  without  the 
evident  protection  of  Providence,  we  cannot  succeed.  If, 
then,  success  crowns  our  efforts,  it  will  be  because  heaven 
decreed  it.  Meanwhile  I  hope.'  " 

"  Just  what  I  expected,"  murmured  old  Tabaret. 

"  And  the  wretched  man,"  cried  Noel,  "  dares  to  invoke 
the  aid  of  Providence  !  He  would  make  heaven  his  ac- 
complice !  " 

"  But,"  asked  the  old  fellow,  "  how  did  your  mother,-^ 
4 


50  THE  LERCUGE  CASE. 

pardon  me,  I  would  say,  how  did  Madame  Gerdy  receive 
this  proposition  ? " 

"  She  would  appear  to  have  rejected  it,  at  first,  for  here 
are  twenty  pages  of  eloquent  persuasion  from  the  count, 
urging  her  to  agree  to  it,  trying  to  convince  her.  Oh,  that 
woman !  " 

"  Come  my  child,"  said  M.  Tabaret,  softly,  "  try  not  to 
be  too  unjust.  You  seem  to  direct  all  your  resentment 
against  Madame  Gerdy  ?  Really,  in  my  opinion,  the  count 
is  far  more  deserving  of  your  anger  than  she  is." 

"  True,"  interrupted  Noel,  with  a  certain  degree  of  vio- 
lence,— "  true,  the  count  is  guilty,  very  guilty.  He  is  the 
author  of  the  infamous  conspiracy,  and  yet  I  feel  no  haired 
against  him.  He  has  committed  a  crime,  but  he  has  an 
excuse,  his  passion.  Moreover,  my  father  has  not  deceived 
me,  like  this  miserable  woman,  every  hour  of  my  life,  dur- 
ing thirty  years.  Besides,  M.  de  Commarin  has  been  so 
cruelly  punished,  that,  at  this  present  moment,  I  can  only 
pardon  and  pity  him." 

"  Ah !  so  he  has  been  punished  ?  "  interrogated  the  old 
fellow. 

"  Yes,  fearfully,  as  you  will  admit.  But  allow  me  to  con- 
tinue. Towards  the  end  of  May,  or,  rather,  during  the 
first  days  of  June,  the  count  must  have  arrived  in  Paris, 
for  the  correspondence  ceases.  He  saw  Madame  Gerdy, 
and  the  final  arrangements  of  the  conspiracy  were  decided 
on.  Here  is  a  note  which  removes  all  uncertainty  on  that 
point.  On  the  day  it  was  written,  the  count  was  on  ser- 
vice at  the  Tuileries,  and  unable  to  leave  his  post.  He 
has  written  it  even  in  the  king's  study,  on  the  king's  paper  ; 
see  the  royal  arms  !  The  bargain  has  been  concluded, 
and  the  woman  who  has  consented  to  become  the  instru- 
ment of  my  father's  projects  is  in  Paris.  He  informs  his 
mistress  of  the  fact.  '  Dear  Valerie, — Germain  informs 
me  of  the  arrival  of  your  son's,  our  son's  nurse.  She  will 
call  at  your  house  during  the  day.  She  is  to  be  depended 
upon ;  a  magnificent  recompense  ensures  her  discretion. 
Do  not,  however,  mention  our  plans  to  her  ;  for  she  has 
been  given  to  understand  that  you  know  nothing.  I  wish 
to  charge  myself  with  the  sole  responsibility  of  the  deed  ; 

it  is  more  prudent.  This  woman  is  a  native  of  N . 

She  was  born  on  our  estate,  almost  in  our  house.  Her 
husband  is  a  brave  and  honest  sailor.  Her  name  is  Clau- 


THE  LEROUCE  CASE.  51 

dine  Lerouge.  Be  of  good  courage,  my  dear  love  !  I  am 
exacting  from  you  the  greatest  sacrifice  that  a  lover  can 
hope  for  from  a  mother.  Heaven,  you  can  no  longer  doubt 
it,  protects  us.  Everything  depends  now  upon  our  skill 
and  our  prudence,  so  that  we  are  sure  to  succeed  !  ' ' 

On  one  point,  at  least,  M.  Tabaret  was  sufficiently  en- 
lightened. The  researches  into  the  past  life  of  widow  Le- 
rouge were  no  longer  difficult.  He  could  not  restrain  an 
exclamation  of  satisfaction,  which  passed  unnoticed  by 
Noel. 

"  This  note,"  resumed  the  barrister,  "  closes  the  count's 
correspondence  with  Madame  Gerdy." 

"  What ! "  exclaimed  the  old  fellow,  "  you  are  in  pos- 
session of  nothing  more  ?  " 

"  I  have  also  ten  lines,  written  many  years  later,  which 
certainly  have  some  weight,  but  after  all  are  only  a  moral 
proof." " 

"  What  a  misfortune  !  "  murmured  M.  Tabaret.  Noel 
laid  on  the  bureau  the  letters  he  had  held  in  his  hand,  and. 
turning  towards  his  old  friend,  he  looked  at  him  steadily, 

"  Suppose,"  said  he  slowly  and  emphasising  every  sylla- 
ble,— "  suppose  that  all  my  information  ends  here.  We 
will  admit,  for  a  moment,  that  I  know  nothing  more  than 
you  do  now.  What  is  your  opinion  ?  " 

Old  Tabaret  remained  some  minutes  without  answering; 
he  was  estimating  the  probabilities  resulting  from  M.  de 
Commarin's  letters.  "  For  my  own  part,"  said  he  at  length, 
"  I  believe  on  my  conscience  that  you  are  not  Madame 
Gerdy's  son." 

"  And  you  are  right !  "  answered  the  barrister  forcibly. 
"  You  will  easily  believe,  will  you  not,  that  I  went  and  saw 
Claudine.  She  loved  me,  this  poor  woman  who  had  given 
me  her  milk,  she  suffered  from  the  knowledge  of  the  injus- 
tice that  had  been  done  me.  Must  I  say  it,  her  complicity 
in  the  matter  weighed  upon  her  conscience  ;  it  was  a  re- 
morse too  great  for  her  old  age.  I  saw  her,  I  interrogated 
her,  and  she  told  me  all.  The  count's  scheme,  simply  and 
yet  ingeniously  conceived,  succeeded  without  any  effort. 
Three  clays  after  my  birth,  the  crime  was  committed,  and  I, 
poor,  helpless  infant,  was  betrayed,  despoiled  and  disin- 
herited by  my  natural  protector,  by  my  own  father !  Poor 
Claudine  !  She  promised  me  her  testimony  for  the  day  on 
which  I  should  reclaim  my  rights  !  " 


52  Tin-:  L/'.A'ort;;-;  CASE. 

"  And  she  is  gone,  carrying  her  secret  with  her  ! ''  mur- 
mured the  old  fellow  in  a  tone  of  regret. 

"  Perhaps ! "  replied  Noel,  "  for  I  have  yet  one  hope. 
Claudine  had  in  her  possession  several  letters  which  had 
been  written  to  her  a  long  time  ago,  some  by  the  count, 
some  by  Madame  Gerdy,  letters  both  imprudent  and  ex- 
plicit. They  will  be  found,  no  doubt,  and  their  evidence 
will  be  decisive.  I  have  held  these  letters  in  my  hands, 
I  have  read  them ;  Claudine  particularly  wished  me  to 
keep  them,  why  did  I  not  do  so  ?  " 

No !  there  was  no  hope  on  that  side,  and  old  Tabaret 
knew  so  better  than  any  one.  It  was  these  very  letters, 
no  doubt,  that  the  assassin  of  La  Jonchere  wanted.  He 
had  found  them  and  had  burnt  them  with  the  other  papers, 
in  the  little  stove.  The  old  amateur  detective  was  begin- 
ning to  understand.  "All  the  same,"  said  he,  "from  what 
I  know  of  your  affairs,  which  I  think  I  know  as  well  as 
my  own,  it  appears  to  me  that  the  count  has  not  overwell 
kept  the  dazzling  promises  of  fortune  he  made  Madame 
Gerdy  on  your  behalf." 

"  He  never  even  kept  them  in.  the  least  degree,  my  old 
friend." 

"  That  now,"  cried  the  old  fellow  indignantly,  "  is  even 
more  infamous  than  all  the  rest." 

"  Do  not  accuse  my  father,"  answered  Noel  gravely  ; 
"  his  connection  with  Madame  Gerdy  lasted  a  long  time. 
I  remember  a  haughty-looking  man  who  used  sometimes 
to  come  and  see  me  at  school,  and  who  could  be  no  other 
than  the  count.  But  the  rupture  came." 

"  Naturally,"  sneered  M.  Tabaret,  "  a  great  nobleman — 

"Wait  before  judging,"  interrupted  the  barrister.  "M. 
de  Commarin  had  his  reasons.  His  mistress  was  false  to 
him,  he  learnt  it,  and  cast  her  off  with  just  indignation. 
Tlie  ten  lines  which  I  mentioned  to  you  were  written 
then. " 

Noel  searched  a  considerable  time  among  the  papers 
scattered  upon  the  table,  and  at  length  selected  a  letter 
more  faded  and  creased  than  the  others.  Judging  from 
the  number  of  folds  in  the  paper  one  could  guess  that  it 
had  been  read  and  re-read  many  times.  The  writing  even 
was  here  and  there  partly  obliterated.  "  In  this,"  said  he 
in  a  bitter  tone,  "  Madame  Gerdy  is  no  longer  the  adored 
Valerie :  '  A  friend,  cruel  as  all  true  friends,  has  opened 


7 '///.•:  LEROUGE  CASE,  53 

my  eyes.  I  doubted.  You  have  been  watched,  and  to- 
day, unhappily,  I  can  doubt  no  more.  You,  Valerie,  you 
to  whom  I  have  given  more  than  my  life,  you  deceive  me 
and  have  been  deceiving  me  for  a  long  time  past.  Un- 
happy man  that  I  am  !  I  am  no  longer  certain  that  I  am 
the  father  of  your  child. ' ' 

"  But  this  note  is  a  proof,"  cried  old  Tabaret,  "  an  over- 
whelming proof.  Of  what  importance  to  the  count  would 
be  a  doubt  of  his  paternity,  had  he  not  sacrificed  his  legit- 
imate son  to  his  bastard  ?  Yes,  you  have  said  truly,  his 
punishment  has  been  severe." 

"Madame  Gerdy,"  resumed  Noel,  "wished  to  justify 
herself.  She  wrote  to  the  count ;  but  he  returned  her  let- 
ters unopened.  She  called  on  him,  but  he  would  not  re- 
ceive her.  At  length  she  grew  tired  of  her  useless  at- 
tempts to  see  him.  She  knew  that  all  was  well  over  when 
the  count's  steward  brought  her  for  me  a  legal  settlement 
of  fifteen  thousand  francs  a  year.  The  son  had  taken  my 
place,  and  the  mother  had  ruined  me  !  " 

Three  or  four  light  knocks  at  the  door  of  the  study  in- 
terrupted Noel.  "  Who  is  there  ? "  he  asked,  without  stir- 
ring. 

"  Sir,"  answered  the  servant  from  the  other  side  of  the 
door,  "  maclame  wishes  to  speak  to  you." 

The  barrister  appeared  to  hesitate.  "  Go,  my  son,  "  ad- 
vised M.  Tabaret ;  "  do  not  be  merciless,  only  bigots  have 
that  right."  Noel  arose  with  visible  reluctance,  and  passed 
into  Madame  Gerdy's  sleeping  apartment. 

"  Poor  boy ! "  thought  M.  Tabaret  when  left  alone. 
"  What  a  fatal  discovery  !  and  how  he  must  feel  it.  Such 
a  noble  young  man  !  such  a  brave  heart !  In  his  candid 
honesty  he  does  not  even  suspect  from  whence  the  blow 
has  fallen.  Fortunately  I  am  shrewd  enough  for  two,  and 
it  is  just  when  he  despairs  of  justice,  I  am  confident  of 
obtaining  it  for  him.  Thanks  to  his  information,  I  am 
now  on  the  track.  A  child  might  now  divine  whose  hand 
struck  the  blow.  But  how  has'it  happened  ?  He  will  tell 
me  without  knowing  it.  Ah  !  if  I  had  one  of  those  letters 
for  four  and  twenty  hours.  He  has  probably  counted 
them.  If  I  ask  for  one,  I  must  acknowledge  my  connec- 
tion with  the  police.  I  had  better  take  one,  no  matter 
which,  just  to  verify  the  handwriting." 

Old  Tabaret  had  just  thrust  one  of  the  letters  into  the 


5t  THE  LEROUGE  CASE. 

depths  of  his  capacious  pocket,  when  the  barrister  returned. 
He  was  one  of  those  men  of  strongly  formed  character, 
who  never  lose  their  self-control.  He  was  very  cunning 
and  had  long  accustomed  himself  to  dissimulation,  that 
indispensable  armour  of  the  ambitious.  As  he  entered 
the  room  nothing  in  his  manner  betrayed  what  had  taken 
place  between  Madame  Gerdy  and  himself.  He  was  ab- 
solutely as  calm  as,  when  seated  in  his  arm-chair,  he  list- 
ened to  the  interminable  stories  of  his  clients. 

"  Well,"  asked  old  Tabaret,  "  how  is  she  now  ? " 

"  Worse,"  answered  Noel.  "  She  is  now  delirious,  and 
no  longer  knows  what  she  says.  She  has  just  assailed  me 
with  the  most  atrocious  abuse,  upbraiding  me  as  the  vilest 
of  mankind !  I  really  believe  she  is  going  out  of  her 
mind." 

"  One  might  do  so  with  less  cause,"  murmured  M.  Tab- 
aret ;  "  and  I  think  you  ought  to  send  for  the  doctor." 

"I  have  just  done  so." 

The  barrister  had  resumed  his  seat  before  his  bureau, 
and  was  rearranging  the  scattered  letters  according  to 
their  dates.  He  seemed  to  have  forgotten  that  he  had 
asked  his  old  friend's  advice ;  nor  did  he  appear  in  any 
way  desirous  of  renewing  the  interrupted  conversation. 
This  was  not  at  all  what  old  Tabaret  wanted.  "  The  more 
I  ponder  over  your  history,  my  dear  Noel,"  he  observed, 
"  the  more  I  am  bewildered.  I  really  do  not  know  what 
resolution  I  should  adopt,  were  I  in  your  situation." 

"  Yes,  my  old  friend,"  replied  the  barrister  sadly,  "  it  is 
a  situation'  that  might  well  perplex  even  more  profound 
experiences  than  yours." 

The  old  amateur  detective  repressed  with  difficulty  the 
sly  smile,  which  for  an  instant  hovered  about  his  lips.  "  I 
confess  it  humbly,"  he  said,  taking  pleasure  in  assuming 
an  air  of  intense  simplicity,  "  but  you,  what  have  you  done  ? 
Your  first  impulse  must  have  been  to  ask  Madame  Gerdy 
for  an  explanation." 

Noel  made  a  startled  movement,  which  passed  unnoticed 
by  old  Tabaret,  preoccupied  as  he  was  in  trying  to  give 
the  turn  he  desired  to  the  conversation,  "  It  was  by  that," 
answered  Noel,  "  that  I  began." 

"  And  what  did  she  say  ?  " 

"  What  could  she  say  !  Was  she  not  overwhelmed  by 
the  discovery  ?  " 


THE  LEROUGE  CASE.  55 

"What !  did  she  not  attempt  to  exculpate  herself?  "  in- 
quired the  detective  greatly  surprised. 

"  Yes !  she  attempted  the  impossible.  She  pretended 
she  could  explain  the  correspondence.  She  told  me.  .  . 
But  can  I  remember  what  she  said  ?  Lies,  absurd,  infamous 
lies."  The  barrister  had  finished  gathering  up  his  letters, 
without  noticing  the  abstraction.  He  tied  them  together 
carefully,  and  replaced  them  in  the  secret  drawer  of  his 
bureau. 

"  Yes,"  continued  he,  rising  and  walking  backwards  and 
forward  across  his  study,  as  if  the  constant  movement  could 
calm  his  anger,  "  yes  she  pretended  she  could  show  me  I  was 
wrong.  It  was  easy,  was  it  not,  with  the  proofs  I  held 
against  her  ?  The  fact  is  she  adores  her  son,  and  her 
heart  is  breaking  at  the  idea  that  he  may  be  obliged  to 
restitute  what  he  has  stolen  from  me.  And  I,  idiot,  fool, 
coward,  almost  wished  not  to  mention  the  matter  to  her. 
I  said  to  myself,  I  will  forgive,  for  after  all  she  has  loved 
me  !  Loved  ?  no.  She  would  see  me  suffer  the  most  hor- 
rible tortures,  without  shedding  a  tear,  to  prevent  a  single 
hair  falling  from  her  son's  head." 

"  She  has  probably  warned  the  count,"  observed  old 
Tabaret,  still  pursuing  his  idea. 

"  She  may  have  tried,  but  cannot  have  succeeded,  for 
the  count  has  been  absent  from  Paris  for  more  than  a  month 
and  is  not  expected  to  return  until  the  end  of  the  week." 

"  How  do  you  know  that  ?  " 

"  I  wished  to  see  the  count  my  father,  to  speak  with 
him.  ..." 

"  You  ? " 

"  Yes,  I.  Do  you  think  that  I  shall  not  reclaim  my  own  ? 
Do  you  imagine  that  I  shall  not  raise  my  voice.  On  what 
account  should  I  keep  silent,  who  have  I  to  consider  ?  I 
have  rights,  and  I  will  make  them  good.  What  do  you  find 
surprising  in  that  ?  " 

"  Nothing,  certainly,  my  friend.  So  then  you  called  at 
M.  de  Commarin's  house  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  I  did  not  decide  on  doing  so  all  at  once,"  con- 
tinued Noel.  "  At  first  my  discovery  almost  drove  me  mad. 
Then  I  required  time  to  reflect.  A  thousand  opposing 
sentiments  agitated  me.  At  one  moment,  my  fury  blinded 
me ;  the  next,  my  courage  deserted  me.  I  would,  and  I 
would  not.  I  was  undecided,  uncertain,  wild.  The  scandal 


56  r/JE  l.EKOl'GE   CASE. 

that  must  arise  from  the  publicity  of  such  an  affair  terrified 
me.  I  desired,  I  still  desire  to  recover  my  name,  that  much 
is  certain.  But  on  the  eye  of  recovering  it,  I  wish  to 
preserve  it  from  stain.  I  was  seeking  a  means  of  arranging 
everything,  without  noise,  without  scandal." 

"  At  length,  however,  you  made  up  your  mind  ?  " 

"  Yes,  after  a  struggle  of  fifteen  days,  fifteen  days  of 
torture,  of  anguish  !  Ah  !  what  I  suffered  in  that  time  ! 
I  neglected  my  business,  being  totally  unfit  for  work. 
During  the  day,  I  tried  by  incessant  action  to  fatigue  my 
body,  that  at  night  I  might  find  forgetfulness  in  sleep.  Vain 
hope  !  since  I  found  these  letters,  I  have  not  slept  an  hour." 

•From  time. to  time,  old  Tabaret  slily  consulted  his  watch. 
"  M.  Daburon  will  be  in  bed,"  thought  he. 

"  At  last  one  morning,"  continued  Noel,  "  after  a  night 
of  rage,  I  determined  to  end  all  uncertainty.  I  was  in 
that  desperate  state  of  mind,  in  which  the  gambler,  after 
successive  losses,  stakes  upon  a  card  his  last  remaining 
coin.  I  plucked  up  courage,  sent  for  a  cab,  and  was  driven 
to  the  de  Commarin  mansion." 

The  old  amateur  detective  here  allowed  a  sigh  of  satisfac- 
tion to  escape  him. 

"  It  is  one  of  the  most  magnificent  houses,  in  the  Faubourg 
St.  Germain,  my  friend,  a  princely  dwelling,  worthy  a  great 
noble  twenty  times  millionaire  ;  almost  a  palace  in  fact. 
One  enters  at  first  a  vast  courtyard,  to  the  right  and  left  of 
which  are  the  stables,  containing  twenty  most  valuable 
horses,  and  the  coach-houses.  At  the  end  rises  the  grand 
facade  of  the  main  building,  majestic  and  severe,  with  its 
immense  windows,  and  its  double  flight  of  marble  steps. 
Behind  the  house  is  a  magnificent  garden,  I  should  say  a 
park,  shaded  by  the  oldest  trees  which  perhaps  exist  in  all 
Paris." 

This  enthusiastic  description  was  not  at  all  what  M. 
Tabaret  wanted.  But  what  could  he  do,  how  could  he  press 
Noel  for  the  result  of  his  visit !  An  indiscreet  word  might 
awaken  the  barrister's  suspicions,  and  reveal  to  him  that  he 
was  speaking  not  to  a  friend,  but  to  a  detective. 

"  Were  you  then  shown  over  the  house  and  grounds  ?  " 
asked  the  old  fellow. 

"  No,  but  I  have  examined  them  alone.  Since  I  discov- 
ered that  I  was  the  only  heir  of  the  Rheteau  de  Commarins, 
I  have  found  out  the  antecedents  of  mv  new  familv.  I  have 


THE  LE ROUGE  CASE.  57 

studied  our  history  at  the  Bibliotheque  ;  it  is  a  noble  history. 
At  night,  utterly  distracted,  I  have  again  and  again  wan- 
dered round  the  dwelling  of  my  ancestors.  Ah  !  you  cannot 
understand  my  emotions  !  '  It  is  there,'  said  I  to  myself, 
'  that  I  was  born  ;  there  that  I  should  have  been  brought 
up  ;  there  that  I  ought  to  reign  to-day  ! '  I  tasted  that 
awful  bitterness  of  which  banished  men  have  died.  I  com- 
pared the  bastard's  brilliant  destinies  with  my  own  sad  and 
laborious  career ;  and  my  indignation  well-nigh  mastered 
me.  A  mad  impulse  stirred  me  to  force  the  doors,  to  rush 
into  the  principal  drawing-room  and  drive  out  the  intruder, 
the  girl  Gerdy's  son,  crying :  '  Get  out,  bastard,  get  out,  I 
am  the  master  here  !  '  The  certainty  of  obtaining  my  rights 
whenever  I  wished,  alone  restrained  me.  Oh  !  yes,  I  know 
it  well,  this  dwelling  of  my  ancestors  !  I  love  its  old  sculp- 
tures, its  grand  old  trees,  even  the  flagstones  of  the  court- 
yard worn  by  the  footsteps  of  my  mother  !  I  love  all  ; 
especially  the  proud  escutcheon,  which  frowns  down  from 
above  the  principal  entrance  and  flings  a  haughty  defiance 
to  the  stupid  theories  of  this  age  of  levellers." 

This  last  phrase  contrasted  so  strongly  with  the  opinions 
usually  expressed  by  the  young  barrister,  that  M.  Tabaret 
was  obliged  to  turn  away  his  head  to  conceal  his  amuse- 
ment. "  Poor  humanity  !"  thought  he.  "  He  sees  himself 
a  great  lord  already." 

"  When  I  arrived,"  resumed  Noel,  "  a  Swiss  porter, 
dressed  in  a  gorgeous  livery,  was  standing  at  the  door.  I 
asked  to  see  the  Count  de  Commarin.  The  Swiss  replied 
that  the  count  was  travelling,  but  that  the  viscount  was  at 
home.  This  interfered  with  my  plans  ;  however,  as  I  had 
gone  so  far,  I  insisted  on  speaking  to  the  son  in  default  of 
the  father.  The  Swiss  stared  at  me  with  astonishment. 
He  had  seen  me  alightfrom  a  hired  vehicle  and  so  deliber- 
ated with  himself  for  some  moments  as  to  whether  I  was  not 
too  insignificant  a  person  to  have  the  honour  of  appearing 
before  the  viscount." 

"  However,  you  were  able  to  speak  with  him  ? " 
"  What,  like  that,  all  at  once  !  "  replied  the  barrister  in 
a  tone  of  bitter  raillery,  "  can  you  possibly  think  so,  my 
dear  M.  Tabaret !  The  inspection,  however,  was  favorable 
to  me  ;  my  white  cravat  and  black  clothes  produced  an 
effect.  The  Swiss  entrusted  me  to  the  guidance  of  a  hunts- 
man with  a  plumed  hat,  who  led  the  way  across  the  court- 


58  THE  I.EKOUGE  CASK. 

yard  to  a  superb  vestibule,  where  five  or  six  footmen  were 
lolling  and  gaping  on  their  seats.  One  of  these  gentlemen 
asked  me  to  follow  him.  He  led  me  up  a  spacious  stair- 
case, wide  enough  for  a  carriage  to  ascend,  preceded  me 
along  an  extensive  picture  gallery,  guided  me  across  vast 
apartments,  the  furniture  of  which  was  fading  under  its 
coverings,  and  finally  delivered  me  into  the  hands  of  M. 
Albert's  valet.  That  is  the  name  by  which  Madame  Ger- 
dy's  son  is  known,  that  is  to  say,  my  name." 

"  I  understand,  I  understand." 

"  I  had  passed  an  inspection  ;  now  I  had  to  undergo  an 
examination.  The  valet  desired  to  be  informed  who  I  was, 
whence  I  came,  what  was  was  my  profession,  what  I  wanted 
and  all  the  rest.  I  answered  simply,  that,  quite  unknown 
to  the  viscount,  I  desired  five  minutes'  conversation  with 
him  on  a  matter  of  importance.  He  left  me,  requesting 
me  to  sit  down  and  wait.  I  had  waited  more  than  a  quarter 
of  an  hour,  when  he  reappeared.  His  master  graciously 
deigned  to  receive  me." 

It  was  easy  to  perceive  that  the  barrister's  reception 
rankled  in  his  breast,  and  that  he  considered  it  an  insult. 
He  could  not  forgive  Albeit  his  lackeys  and  his  valet. 
He  forgot  the  words  of  the  illustrious  duke,  who  said,  "  I 
pay  my  lackeys  to  be  insolent,  to  save  myself  the  trouble 
and  ridicule  of  being  so."  Old  Tabaret  was  surprised  at 
his  young  friend's  display  of  bitterness,  in  speaking  of 
these  trivial  details.  "  What  narrow-mindedness,"  thought 
he,  "  for  a  man  of  such  intelligence  !  Can  it  be  true  that 
the  arrogance  of  lackeys  is  the  secret  of  the  people's 
hatred  of  an  amiable  and  polite  aristocracy  ? " 

"  I  was  ushered  into  a  small  apartment,"  continued 
Noel,  "  simply  furnished,  the  only  ornaments  of  which 
were  weapons.  These,  ranged  against  the  walls,  were  of 
all  times  and  countries.  Never  have  I  seen  in  so  small  a 
space  so  many  muskets,  pistols,  swords,  sabres,  and  foils. 
One  might  have  imagined  himself  in  a  fencing  master's 
arsenal." 

The  weapon  used  by  Widow  Lerouge's  assassin  naturally 
recurred  to  the  old  fellow's  memory. 

"  The  viscount,"  said  Noel,  speaking  slowly,  "  was  half 
lying  on  a  divan  when  I  entered.  He  was  dressed  in  a 
velvet  jacket  and  loose  trousers  of  the  same  material  and 
had  around  his  neck  an  immense  white  silk  scarf.  I  do 


THE  LE ROUGE  CASE.  59 

not  cherish  any  resentment  against  this  young  man  ;  he 
has  never  to  his  knowledge  injured  me  :  he  was  in  igno- 
rance of  our  father's  crime  ;  I  am  therefore  able  to  speak 
of  him  with  justice.  He  is  handsome,  bears  himself  well, 
and  nobly  carries  the  name  which  does  not  belong  to  him. 
He  is  about  my  height,  of  the  same  dark  complexion,  and 
would  resemble  me,  perhaps,  if  he  did  not  wear  a  beard. 
Only  he  looks  five  or  six  years  younger ;  but  this  is  readily 
explained,  he  has  neither  worked,  struggled,  nor  suffered. 
He  is  one  of  the  fortunate  ones  who  arrive  without  having 
to  start,  or  who  traverse  life's  road  on  such  soft  cushions 
that  they  are  never  injured  by  the  jolting  of  their  carriage. 
On  seeing  me,  he  arose  and  saluted  me  graciously." 

"  You  must  have  been  dreadfully  excited,"  remarked  old 
Tabaret. 

"  Less  than  I  am  at  this  moment.  Fifteen  preparatory 
days  of  mental  torture  exhausts  one's  emotions.  I  an- 
swered the  question  I  saw  upon  his  lips.  '  Sir,'  said  I, 
'  you  do  not  know  me  ;  but  that  is  of  little  consequence. 
I  come  to  you,  charged  with  a  very  grave,  a  very  sad  mis- 
sion, which  touches  the  honor  of  the  name  you  bear.' 
Without  doubt  he  did  not  believe  me,  for,  in  an  impertinent 
tone,  he  asked  me, '  Shall  you  be  long  ? '  I  answered  sim- 
ply,'Yes.'" 

"  Pray,"  interrupted  old  Tabaret,  now  become  very 
attentive,  "  do  not  omit  a  single  detail ;  it  may  be  very 
important,  you  understand." 

"  The  viscount,"  continued  Noel,  "  appeared  very  much 
put  out.  '  The  fact  is,'  he  explained,  '  I  had  already  dis- 
posed of  my  time.  This  is  the  hour  at  which  I  call  on  the 
young  lady  to  whom  I  am  engaged,  Mademoiselle  d'Ar- 
lange.  Can  we  not  postpone  this  conversation  ? ' ' 

"  Good  !  another  woman  !  "  said  the  old  fellow  to  him- 
self. 

"  I  answered  the  viscount,  that  an  explanation  would  ad- 
mit of  no  delay  ;  and,  as  I  saw  him  prepare  to  dismiss  me, 
I  drew  from  my  pocket  the  count's  correspondence,  and 
presented  one  of  the  letters  to  him.  On  recognizing  his 
father's  handwriting,  he  became  more  tractable,  declared 
himself  at  my  service,  and  asked  permission  to  write  a 
word  of  apology  to  the  lady  by  whom,  he  was  expected. 
Having  hastily  written  the  note  he  handed  it  to  his  valet, 
and  ordered  him  to  send  it  at  once  to  Madame  d'Arlange. 


60  THE  LE ROUGE  CAXE. 

He  then  asked  me  to  pass  into  the  next  room,  which  was 
his  Tibrary." 

"  One  word,"  interrupted  the  old  fellow  ;  "  was  he 
troubled  on  seeing  the  letters  ? " 

"  Not  the  least  in  the  world.  After  carefully  closing 
the  door,  he  pointed  to  a  chair,  seated  himself,  and  said, 
'  Now,  sir,  explain  yourself.'  I  had  had  time  to  prepare 
myself  for  this  interview  whilst  waiting  in  the  ante-room. 
I  had  decided  to  go  straight  to  the  point.  '  Sir,'  said  I, 
'  my  mission  is  painful.  The  facts  I  am  about  to  reveal  to 
you  are  incredible.  I  beg  you,  do  not  answer  me  until 
you  have  read  the  letters  I  have  here.  I  beseech  you, 
above  all,  to  keep  calm.'  He  looked  at  me  with  an  air  of 
extreme  surprise,  and  answered, '  Speak  !  I  can  hear  all.' 
I  stood  up,  and  said,  '  Sir,  I  must  inform  you  that  you  are 
not  the  legitimate  son  of  M.  de  Commarin,  as  this  corres- 
pondence will  prove  to  you.  The  legitimate  son  exists ; 
and  he  it  is  who  sends  me.'  I  kept  my  eyes  on  his  while 
speaking,  and  I  saw  there  a  passing  gleam  of  fury.  For  a 
moment  I  thought  he  was  about  to  spring  at  my  throat. 
He  soon  recovered  himself.  '  The  letters,'  said  he  in  a 
short  tone.  I  handed  them  to  him.  " 

"  How  !  "  cried  old  Tabaret,  "  these  letters, — the  true 
ones  ?  How  imprudent  !  " 

"  And  why  ?  " 

"  If  he  had — I  don't  know  ;  but — "  the  old  fellow  hesi- 
tated. 

The  barrister  laid  his  hand  upon  his  friend's  .shoulder. 
"  I  was  there,"  said  he  in  a  hollow  tone  ;  "  and  I  promise 
you  the  letters  were  in  no  danger." 

Noel's  features  assumed  such  an  expression  of  ferocity 
that  the  old  fellow  was  almost  afraid,  and  recoiled  in- 
stinctively. "  He  would  have  killed  him,"  thought  he. 

"  That  which  I  have  done  for  you  this  evening,  my 
friend,"  resumed  the  barrister,  "  I  did  for  the  viscount. 
I  obviated,  at  least  for  the  moment,  the  necessity  of 
reading  all  of  these  hundred  and  fifty-six  letters.  I  told 
him  only  to  stop  at  those  marked  with  a  cross,  and  to  care- 
fully read  the  passages  indicated  with  a  red  pencil." 

"  It  was  an  abridgment  of  his  penance,"  remarked  old 
Tabaret. 

"  He  was  seated,"  continued  Noel,  "  before  a  little  table, 
too  fragile  even  to  lean  upon.  I  was  standing  with  my 


THE  LE ROUGE  CASE.  61 

back  to  the  fireplace  in  which  a  fire  was  burning.  I  fol- 
lowed his  slightest  movements  ;  and  I  scanned  his  features 
closely.  Never  in  my  life  have  I  seen  so  sad  a  spectacle, 
nor  shall  I  forget  it,  if  I  live  for  a  thousand  years.  In 
less  than  five  minutes  his  face  changed  to  such  an  extent 
that  his  own  valet  would  not  have  recognized  him.  He 
held  his  handkerchief  in  his  hand,  with  which  from  time  to 
time  he  mechanically  wiped  his  lips.  He  grew  paler  and 
paler,  and  his  lips  became  as  white  as  his  handkerchief. 
Large  drops  of  sweat  stood  upon  his  forehead,  and  his  eyes 
became  dull  and  clouded,  as  if  a  film  had  covered  them  ; 
but  not  an  exclamation,  not  a  sigh,  not  a  groan,  not  even  a 
gesture,  escaped  him.  At  one  moment,  I  felt  such  pity  for 
him  that  I  was  almost  on  the  point  of  snatching  the  letters 
from  his  hands,  throwing  them  into  the  fire  and  taking  him 
in  my  arms,  crying,  '  No,  you  are  my  brother  !  Forget  all ; 
let  us. remain  as  we  are  and  love  one  another! ' ' 

M.  Tabaret  took  Noel's  hand,  and  pressed  it.  "  Ah  ! " 
he  said,  "  I  recognise  my  generous  boy." 

"  If  I  have  not  done  this,  my  friend,  it  is  because  I 
thought  to  myself,  '  Once  these  letters  destroyed,  would  he 
recognise  me  as  his  brother  ? ' ' 

"  Ah  !  very  true.'" 

"  In  about  half  an  hour,  he  had  finished  reading;  he 
arose,  and  facing  me  directly,  said,  'You  are  right,  sir.  If 
these  letters  are  really  written  by  my  father,  as  I  believe 
them  to  be,  they  distinctly  prove  that  I  am  not  the  son  of 
the  Countess  de  Commarin.'  I  did  not  answer.  '  Mean- 
while,' continued  he,  '  these  are  only  presumptions.  Are 
you  possessed  of  other  proofs  ? '  I  expected,  of  course,  a 
great  many  other  objections.  'Germain,'  said  I,  'can 
speak.'  He  told  me  that  Germain  had  been  dead  for  sev- 
eral years.  Then  I  spoke  of  the  nurse,  Widow  Lerouge. 
I  explained  how  easily  she  could  be  found  and  questioned, 
adding  that  she  lived  at  La  Jonchere." 

"  And  what  said  he,  Noel,  to  this  ? "  asked  old  Tabaret 
anxiously. 

"  He  remained  silent  at  first,  and  appeared  to  reflect. 
All  on  a  sudden  he  struck  his  forehead,  and  said,  '  I  remem- 
ber ;  I  know  her.  I  have  accompanied  my  father  to  her 
house  three  times,  and  in  my  presence  he  gave  her  a  con- 
siderable sum  of  money.'  I  remarked  to  him  that  this  was 
yet  another  proof.  He  made  no  answer,  but  walked  up 


62  THE  LEKOUGE  CASE. 

and  down  the  room.  At  length  he  turned  towards  me,  sav- 
ing, '  Sir,  you  know  M.  de  Commarin's  legitimate  son  ? ' 
I  answered  :  '  I  am  he.'  He  bowed  his  head  and  murmured 
'  I  thought  so.'  He  then  took  my  hand  and  added  : '  Brother, 
I  bear  you  no  ill  will  for  this.'  " 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  remarked  old  Tabaret,  that  he  might 
have  left  that  to  you  to  say,  and  with  more  reason  and 
justice." 

"  No,  my  friend,  for  he  is  more  ill-used  than  I.  I  have 
not  been  lowered,  for  I  did  not  know,  whilst  he.'.  .  .  ." 

The  old  police  agent  nodded  his  head,  he  had  to  hide 
his  thoughts,  and  they  were  stifling  him. 

"  At  length,"  resumed  Noel,  after  a  rather  long  pause,  "  I 
asked  him  what  he  proposed  doing.  '  Listen,'  he  said,  '  I 
expect  my  father  in  about  eight  or  ten  days.  You  will  al- 
low me  this  delay.  As  soon  as  he  returns  I  will  have  an 
explanation  with  him,  and  justice  shall  be  done.  I  give  you 
my  word  of  honour.  Take  back  your  letters  and  leave  me 
to  myself.  This  news  has  utterly  overwhelmed  me.  In  a 
moment  I  lose  everything :  a  great  name  that  I  have  always 
borne  as  worthily  as  possible,  a  magnificent  position,  an  im- 
mense fortune,  and,  more  than  all  that,  perhaps,  the  woman 
who  is  dearer  to  me  than  life.  In  exchange,  it  is  true,  I  shall 
find  a  mother.  We  will  console  each  other.  And  I  will 
try,  sir,  to  make  her  forget  you,  for  she  must  love  you,  and 
will  miss  you.' " 

"  Did  he  really  say  that  ? "   , 

"  Almost  word  for  word." 

"  Hypocrite  ! "  growled  the  old  fellow  between  his  teeth. 

"  What  did  you  say  ?  "  asked  Noel. 

"  I  say  that  he  is  a  fine  young  man  ;  and  I  shall  be  de- 
lighted to  make  his  acquaintance." 

"  I  did  not  show  him  the  letter  referring  to  the  rupture," 
added  Noel ;  "  it  is  best  that  he  should  ignore  Madame 
Gerdy's  misconduct.  I  voluntarily  deprived  myself  of  this 
proof,  rather  than  give  him  further  pain." 

"And  now?" 

"  What  am  I  to  do  ?  I  am  waiting  the  count's  return.  I 
shall  act  more  freely  after  hearing  what  he  has  to  say.  To- 
morrow I  shall  ask  permission  to  examine  the  papers  be- 
longing to  Claudine.  If  I  find  the  letters,  I  am  saved ;  if 
not, — but,  as  I  have  told  you,  I  have  formed  no  plan  since 
I  heard  of  the  assassination.  Now,  what  do  you  advise  ?  " 


7 HE  LEROUGE  CASE.  63 

"The  briefest  counsel  demands  long  reflection,"  replied 
the  old  fellow,  who  was  in  haste  to  depart.  "Alas!  my 
poor  boy,  what  worry  you  have  had  !  " 

"  Terrible  !  and,  in  addition,  I  have  pecuniary  embar- 
rassments." 

"  How  !  you  who  spend  nothing  ?  " 

"  I  have  entered  into  various  engagements.  Can  I  now 
make  use  of  Madame  Gerdy's  fortune,  which  I  have  hith 
erto  used  as  my  own  ?  I  think  not." 

"  You  certainly  ought  not  to.  But  listen  !  I  am  glad  you 
have  spoken  of  this ;  you  can  render  me  a  service." 

"  Very  willingly.     What  is  it  ?  " 

"  I  have,  locked  up  in  my  secretary,  twelve  or  fifteen 
thousand  francs,  which  trouble  me  exceedingly.  You  see, 
I  am  old,  and  not  very  brave,  if  any  one  heard  I  had  this 
money — " 

"  I  fear  I  cannot — "  commenced  the  barrister. 

"  Nonsense  !  "  said  the  old  fellow.  "  To-morrow  I  will 
give  them  you  to  take  care  of."  But  remembering  he  was 
about  to  put  himself  at  M.  Daburon's  disposal,  and  that 
perhaps  he  night  not  be  free  on  the  morrow,  he  quickly  ad- 
ded, "  No,  not  to-morrow  ;  but  this  very  evening.  This  in- 
fernal money  shall  not  remain  another  night  in  my  keeping." 

He  hurried  out,  and  presently  reappeared,  holding  in  his 
hand  fifteen  notes  of  a  thousand  francs  each.  "  If  that  is 
not  sufficient,"  said  he,  handing  them  to  Noel,  "you  can 
have  more." 

"Anyhow,"  replied  the  barrister,  "  I  will  give  you  a  re- 
ceipt for  these." 

"  Oh  !  never  mind.     Time  enough  to-morrow." 

"  And  if  I  die  to-night  ?  " 

"  Then  said  the  old  fellow  to  himself,  thinking  of  his  will, 
"I  shall  still  be  your  debtor.  Good-night  !  "  added  he  aloud. 
You  have  asked  my  advice  ,  I  shall  require  the  night  for  re- 
flection. At  present  my  brain  is  whirling  ;  I  must  go  into 
the  air.  If  I  go  to  bed  now,  I  am  sure  to  have  a  horrible 
nightmare.  Come,  my  boy  ;  patience  and  courage.  Who 
knows  whether  at  this  very  hour  Providence  is  not  working 
for  you  ?  " 

He  went  out,  and  Noel,  leaving  his  door  open,  listened 
to  the  sound  of  his  footsteps  as  he  descended  the  stairs. 
Almost  immediately  the  cry  of,  "  Open,  if  you  please,"  and 
the  banging  of  the  door  apprised  him  that  M.  Tabaret  had 


64  THE  LE ROUGE  CASE. 

gone  out.  He  waited  a  few  minutes  and  refilled  his  lamp. 
Then  he  took  a  small  packet  from  one  of  his  bureau  drawers 
slipped  into  his  pocket  the  bank  notes  lent  him  by  his  old 
friend,  and  left  his  study,  the  door  of  which  he  double-locked 
On  reaching  the  landing,  he  paused.  He  listened  intently 
as  though  the  sound  of  Madame  Gerdy's  moans  could  reach 
him  where  he  stood.  Hearing  nothing,  he  descended  the 
stairs  on  tiptoe.  A  minute  later,  he  was  in  the  street. 

V. 

INCLUDED  in  Madame  Gerdy's  lease  was  a  coach-house, 
which  was  used  by  her  as  a  lumber  room.  Here  were 
heaped  together  all  the  old  rubbish  of  the  household, 
broken  pieces  of  furniture,  utensils  past  service,  articles 
become  useless  or  cumbrous.  It  was  also  used  to  store 
the  provision  of  wood  and  coal  for  the  winter.  This  old 
coach-house  had  a  small  door  opening  on  the  street,  which 
had  been  in  disuse  for  many  years ;  but  which  Noel  had 
had  secretly  repaired  and  provided  with  a  lock.  He 
could  thus  enter  or  leave  the  house  at  any  hour  without 
the  concierge  or  any  one  else  knowing.  It  was  by  this 
door  that  the  barrister  went  out,  though  not  without  using 
the  utmost  caution  in  opening  and  closing  it.  Once  in 
the  street,  he  stood  still  a  moment,  as  if  hesitating  which 
way  to  go.  Then,  he  slowly  proceeded  in  the  direction  of 
the  St.  Lazare  railway  station,  when  a  cab  happening  to 
pass,  he  hailed  it.  "  Rue  du  Faubourg  Montmarte,  at 
the  corner  of  the  Rue  de  Provence,"  said  Noel,  entering 
the  vehicle,  "  and  drive  quick." 

The  barrister  alighted  at  the  spot  named,  and  dismissed 
the  cabman.  When  he  had  seen  him  drive  off,  Noel 
turned  into  the  Rue  de  Provence,  and,  after  walking  a 
few  yards,  rang  the  bell  of  one  of  the  handsomest  houses 
in  the  street.  The  door  was  immediately  opened.  As 
Noel  passed  before  him  the  concierge  made  a  most 
respectful,  and  at  the  same  time  patronizing  bow,  one  of 
those  salutations  which  Parisian  concierges  reserve  for 
their  favorite  tenants,  generous  mortals  always  ready  to 
give.  On  reaching  the  second  floor,  the  barrister  paused, 
drew  a  key  from  his  pocket,  and  opening  the  door  facing 
him,  entered  as  if  at  home.  But  at  the  sound  of  the  key 
in  the  lock,  though  very  faint,  a  lady's  maid,  rather  young 


THE  LEROUGE  CASE.  65 

and  pretty,  with  a  bold  pair  of  eyes,  ran  toward  him. 
"Ah!  it  is  you,  sir,"  cried  she.  This  exclamation  escaped 
her  just  loud  enough  to  be  audible  at  the  extremity  of  the 
apartment,  and  serve  as  a  signal  if  needed.  It  was  as  if 
she  had  cried,  "  Take  care  !  "  "  Noel  did  not  seem  to  notice 
it.  "  Madame  is  there  ?  "  asked  he. 

"  Yes,  sir,  and  very  angry  too.  This  morning  she 
wanted  to  send  some  one  to  you.  A  little  while  ago  she 
spoke  of  going  to  find  you,  sir,  herself.  I  have  had  much 
difficulty  in  prevailing  on  her  not  to  disobey  your  orders." 

"  Very  well,"  said  the  barrister. 

"  Madame  is  in  the  smoking  room,"  continued  the  girl. 
"  I  am  making  her  a  cup  of  tea.  Will  you  have  one,  sir  ? " 

"  Yes,"  replied  Noel.     "  Show  me  a  light,  Charlotte." 

He  passed  successively  through  a  magnificent  dining- 
room,  a  splendid  gilded  drawing-room  in  Louis  XIV.  style, 
and  entered  the  smoking-room.  This  was  a  lather  large 
apartment  with  a  very  high  ceiling.  Once  inside  one 
might  almost  fancy  oneself  three  thousand  miles  from 
Paris,  in  the  house  of  some  opulent  mandarin  of  the  celes- 
tial Empire.  Furniture,  carpet,  hangings,  pictures,  all 
had  evidently  been  imported  direct  from  Hong  Kong  or 
Shanghai.  A  rich  silk  tapestry  representing  brilliantly 
coloured  figures,  covered  the  walls,  and  hid  the  doors 
from  view.  All  the  empire  of  the  sun  and  moon  was 
depicted  thereon  in  vermillion  landscapes  :  corpulent 
mandarins  surrounded  by  their  lantern-bearers  ;  learned 
men  lay  stupefied  with  opium,  sleeping  under  their  para- 
sols ;  young  girls  with  elevated  eyebrows,  stumbled  upon 
their  diminutive  feet  swathed  in  bandages.  The  carpet 
of  a  manufacture  unknown  to  Europeans,  was  strewn 
with  fruits  and  flowers,  so  true  to  nature  that  they  might 
have  deceived  a  bee.  Some  great  artist  of  Pekin  had 
painted  on  the  silk  which  covered  the  ceiling  numerous 
fantastic  birds,  opening  on  azure  ground  their  wings  of 
purple  and  gold.  Slender  rods  of  lacquer,  inlaid  with 
mother  of  pearl,  bordered  the  draperies,  and  marked  the 
angles  of  the  apartment.  Two  fantastic  looking  chests 
entirely  occupied  one  side  of  the  room.  Articles  of  furni- 
ture of  capricious  and  incoherent  forms,  tables  with 
porcelain  tops,  and  chiffoniers  of  precious  woods  encum- 
bered every  recess  or  angle.  There  were  also  ornamental 
cabinets  and  shelves  purchased  of  Lien-Tsi,  the  Tahan  of 

5 


06  THE  LEROUGE  CASE. 

.  Sou-Tcheou,  the  artistic  city,  and  a.  thousand  curiosities, 
both  miscellaneous  and  costly,  from  the  ivory  sticks  which 
are  used  instead  of  forks,  to  the  porcelain  teacups, 
thinner  than  soap  bubbles, — miracles  of  the  reign  of  Kien- 
Loung.  A  very  large  and  very  low  divan  piled  up  with 
cushions,  covered  with  tapestry  similar  to  the  hangings, 
occupied  one  end  of  the  room.  There  was  no  regular 
window,  but  instead  a  large  single  pane  of  glass,  nxed 
into  the  wall  of  the  house  ;  in  front  of  it  was  a  double 
glass  door  with  moveable  panes,  and  the  space  between 
was  filled  with  the  most  rare  flowers.  The  grate  was 
replaced  by  registers  adroitly  concealed,  which  maintained 
in  the  apartment  a  temperature  fit  for  hatching  silkworms, 
thus  truly  harmonising  with  the  furniture. 

When  Noel  entered,  a  woman,  still  young,  was  reclining  on 
the  divan,  smoking  a  cigarette.  In  spite  of  the  tropical  heat, 
she  was  enveloped  in  heavy  Cashmere  shawls.  She  was 
small,  but  then  only  small  women  can  unite  in  their 
persons  every  perfection.  Women  who  are  above  the 
medium  height  must  be  either  essays,  or  errors  of  nature. 
No  matter  how  lovely  they  may  look,  they  invariably 
present  some  defect,  like  the  work  of  a  statuary,  who, 
though  possessed  of  genius,  attempts  for  the  first  time 
sculpture  on  a  grand  scale.  She  was  small,  but  her  neck, 
her  shoulders,  and  her  arms  had  the  most  exquisite  con- 
tours. Her  hands  with  their  tapering  fingers  and  rosy 
nails  looked  like  jewels  preciously  cared  for.  Her  feet, 
encased  in  silken  stockings  almost  as  thin  as  a  spider's 
web,  were  a  marvel  ;  not  that  they  recalled  the  very  fab- 
ulous foot  which  Cinderella  thrust  into  the  glass  slipper  ; 
but  the  other,  very  real,  very  celebrated  and  very  palpable 
foot,  of  which  the  fair  owner  (the  lovely  wife  of  a  well- 
known  banker)  used  to  present  the  model  either  in  bronze 
or  in  marble  to  her  numerous  admirers.  Her  face  was 
not  beautiful,  nor  even  pretty ;  but  her  features  were 
such  as  one  seldom  forgets  ;  for,  at  the  first  glance,  they 
startled  the  beholder  like  a  flash  of  lightning.  Her 
forehead  was  a  little  high,  and  her  mouth  unmistakeably 
large,  notwithstanding  the  provoking  freshness  of  her  lips. 
Her  eyebrows  were  so  perfect  they  seem  to  have  been 
drawn  with  India  ink  ;  but,  unhappily  the  pencil  had  been 
used  too  heavily ;  and  they  gave  her  an  unpleasant 
expression  when  she  frowned.  On  the  other  hand,  her 


THE  I.EROUGE  CASE.  67 

smooth  complexion  had  a  rich  golden  pallor;  and  her 
black  and  velvety  eyes  possessed  enormous  magnetic 
power.  Her  teeth  were  of  a  pearly  brilliancy  and  white- 
ness, and  her  hair,  of  prodigious  opulence,  was  black  and 
line,  and  glossy  as  a  raven's  wing. 

On  perceiving  Noel,  as  he  pushed  aside  the  silken  hang- 
ings, she  half  arose  and  leaned  upon  her  elbow.  "  So  you 
have  come  at  last  ? "  she  observed  in  a  tone  of  vexation ; 
"  you  are  very  kind." 

The  barrister  felt  almost  suffocated  by  the  oppressive 
temperature  of  the  room.  "  How  warm  it  is  !  "  said  he  ; 
"  it  is  enough  to  stifle  one  !  " 

"  Do  you  find  it  so  ? "  replied  the  young  woman. 
"  Well,  I  am  actually  shivering !  It  is  true  though,  that  I 
am  very  unwell.  Waiting  is  unbearable  to  me,  it  acts  up- 
on my  nerves ;  and  I  have  been  waiting  for  you  ever  since 
yesterday." 

"  It  was  quite  impossible  for  me  to  come,"  explained 
Noel,  "  quite  impossible  !  " 

"  You  knew,  however,"  continued  the  lady,  "  that  to-day 
was  my  settling  day;  and  that  I  had  several  heavy  ac- 
counts to  settle.  The  tradesmen  all  came,  and  I  had  not 
a  half-penny  to  give  them.  The  coachmaker  sent  his  bill, 
but  there  was  no  money.  Then  that  old  rascal  Clergot,  to 
whom  I  had  given  an  acceptance  for  three  thousand  francs, 
came  and  kicked  up  a  hell  of  a  row.  How  pleasant  all 
this  is  !  " 

Noel  bowed  his  head  like  a  schoolboy  rebuked  for  hav- 
ing neglected  his  lessons.  "  It  is  but  one  day  behind," 
he  murmured. 

"  And  that  is  nothing,  is  it  ?  "  retorted  the  young  woman. 
"  A  man  who  respects  himself,  my  friend,  may  allow  his 
own  signature  to  be  dishonored,  but  never  that  of  his  mis- 
tress !  Do  you  wish  to  destroy  my  credit  altogether  ? 
You  know  very  well  that  the  only  consideration  I  receive 
is  what  my  money  pays  for.  So  as  soon  as  I  am  unable 
to  pay,  it  will  be  all  up  with  me." 

"  My  dear  Juliette,"  began  the  barrister  gently. 

"  Oh,  yes !  that's  all  very  fine,"  interrupted  she.  "  Your 
dear  Juliette  !  your  adored  Juliette  !  so  long  as  you  are 
here  it  is  really  charming ;  but  no  sooner  are  you  outside 
than  you  forget  everything.  Do  you  ever  remember  then 
that  there  is  such  a  person  as  Juliette  ?" 


68  THE  LEKOl'UE  CASE. 

"  How  unjust  you  are  !  "  replied  Noel.  "  Do  you  not 
know  that  I  am  always  thinking  of  you  :  have  I  not  proved 
it  to  you  a  thousand  times  ?  Look  here  !  I  am  going  to 
prove  it  to  you  again  this  very  instant."  He  withdrew 
from  his  pocket  the  small  packet  he  had  taken  out  of  his 
bureau  drawer,  and,  undoing  it,  showed  her  a  handsome 
velvet  casket.  "  Here/'  said  he  exultingly,  "  is  the  brace- 
let you  longed  for  so  much  a  week  ago  at  Beaugran's." 

Madame  Juliette,  without  rising,  held  out  her  hand  to 
cake  the  casket,  and,  opening  it  with  the  utmost  indiffer- 
ence, just  glanced  at  the  jewel,  and  merely  said,  V  Ah  !  " 

"  Is  this  the  one  you  wanted  ? "  asked  Noel. 

"  Yes,  but  it  looked  much  prettier  in  the  shop  window." 
She  closed  the  casket,  and  threw  it  carelessly  on  to  a  small 
table  near  her. 

"  I  am  unfortunate  this  evening,"  said  the  barrister, 
much  mortified. 

"  How  so  ?  " 

"  I  see  plainly  the  bracelet  does  not  please  you." 

"  Oh,  but  it  does.  I  think  it  lovely  ....  besides,  it 
complete  the  two  dozen." 

It  was  now  Noel's  turn  to  say :  "  Ah !...."  and  as 
Juliette  said  nothing,  he  added :  "  Well,  if  you  are  pleased, 
you  do  not  show  it." 

"  Oh !  so  that  is  what  you  are  driving  at !  "  cried  the 
lady.  "  I  am  not  grateful  enough  to  suit  you  !  You  bring 
me  a  present,  and  I  ought  at  once  to  pay  cash,  fill  the 
house  with  cries  of  joy,  and  throw  myself  upon  my  knees 
before  you,  calling  you  a  great  and  magnificent  lord  !  " 

Noel  was  unable  this  time  to  restrain  a  gesture  of  impa- 
tience, which  Juliette  perceived  plainly  enough,  to  her 
great  delight. 

"  Would  that  be  sufficent  ? "  continued  she.  "  Shall  I 
call  Charlotte,  so  that  she  may  admire  this  superb  bracelet, 
this  monument  of  your  geTierosity  ?  Shall  I  have  the  con- 
cierge up,  and  call  the  cook  to  tell  them  how  happy  I  am 
to  possess  such  a  magnificent  lover. 

The  barrister  shrugged  his  shoulders  like  a  philosopher, 
incapable  of  noticing  a  child's  banter.  "  What  is  the  use 
of  these  insulting  jests  ?  "  said  he.  "  If  you  have  any  real 
complaint  against  me,  better  to  say  so  simply  and  seri- 
ously." 

"Very  well,"  said  Juliette,  "let  us  be  serious.     And 


THE  LE ROUGE  CASE.  69 

that  being  so,  I  will  tell  you  it  would  have  been  better  to 
have  forgotten  the  bracelet,  and  to  have  brought  me  last 
night  or  this  morning  the  eight  thousand  francs  I  wanted." 

"  I  coulcl  not  come." 

"  You  should  have  sent  them  ;  messengers  are  still  to  be 
found  at  the  street-corners." 

"  If  I  neither  brought  nor  sent  them,  my  dear  Juliette, 
it  was  because  I  did  not  have  them.  I  had  trouble  enough 
in  getting  them  promised  me  for  to-morrow.  If  I  have  the 
sum  this  evening,  I  owe  it  to  a  chance  upon  which  I  could 
not  have  counted  an  hour  ago ;  but  by  which  I  profited,  at 
the  risk  of  compromising  myself." 

"  Poor  man ! "  said  Juliette,  with  an  ironical  touch  of 
pity  in  her  voice.  "  Do  you  dare  to  tell  me  you  have  had 
difficulty  in  obtaining  ten  thousand  francs, — you  ?  " 

"  Yes,— I !  " 

The  young  woman  looked  at  her  lover,  and  burst  into  a 
fit  of  laughter.  "  You  are  really  superb  when  you  act  the 
poor  young  man  !  "  said  she. 

"  I  am  not  acting." 

"  So  you  say,  my  own.  But  I  see  what  you  are  aiming 
at.  This  amiable  confession  is  the  preface.  To-morrow 
you  will  declare  that  your  affairs  are  very  much  embar- 
rassed, and  the  day  after  to-morrow Ah  !  you  are 

becoming  very  avaricious.  It  is  a  virtue  you  used  not  to 
possess.  Do  you  not  already  regret  the  money  you  have 
given  me  ? " 

"  Wretched  woman  ! "  murmured  Noel,  fast  losing  pa- 
tience. 

"  Really,"  continued  the  lady,  "  I  pity  you,  oh  !  so  much. 
Unfortunate  lover !  Shall  I  get  up  a  subscription  for  you  ? 
In  your  place,  I  would  appeal  to  public  charity." 

Noel  could  stand  it  no  longer,  in  spite  of  his  resolution 
to  remain  calm.  "  You  think  it  a  laughing  matter  ?  "  cried1 
he.  "  Well !  let  me  tell  you,  Juliette,  I  am  ruined,  and  I 
have  exhausted  my  last  resources !  I  am  reduced  to  ex- 
pedients ! " 

The  eyes  of  the  young  woman  brightened.  She 
looked  at  her  lover  tenderly.  "  Oh,  if  'twas  only  true,  my 
big  pet !  "  said  she.  "  If  I  only  could  believe  you  !  " 

The  barrister  was  wounded  to  the  heart.  "  She 
believes  me,"  thought  he  ;  "  and  she  is  glad.  She  detests 
me." 


70  THE  LEROUGE  CASE. 

He  was  mistaken.  The  idea  that  a  man  had  loved  hei 
sufficiently  to  ruin  himself  for  her,  without  allowing  even 
a  reproach  to  escape  him,  filled  this  woman  with  joy. 
She  felt  herself  on  the  point  of  loving  the  man,  now  poor 
and  humbled,  whom  she  had  despised  when  rich  and 
proud.  But  the  expression  of  her  eyes  suddenly  changed. 
"  What  a  fool  I  am,"  cried  she,  "  I  was  on  the  point  of 
believing  all  that,  and  of  trying  to  console  you.  Don't 
pretend  that  you  are  one  of  those'  gentlemen  who  scatter 
their  money  broadcast.  Tell  that  to  somebody  else,  my 
friend !  All  men  in  our  days  calculate  like  money-lenders. 
There  are  only  a  few  fools  who  ruin  themselves  now,  some 
conceited  youngsters,  and  occasionally  an  amorous  old 
dotard.  Well,  you  are  a  very  calm,  very  grave,  and  very 
serious  fellow,  but  above  all,  a  very  strong  one." 

"  Not  with  you,  anyhow,"   murmured  Noel. 

"  Come  now,  stop  that  nonsense  !  You  know  very  well 
what  you  are  about.  Instead  of  a  heart,  you  have  a  great 
big  double  zero,  just  like  a  Homburg.  When  you  took  a 
fancy  to  me,  you  said  to  yourself,  'I  will  expend  so  much 
on  passion,'  and  you  have  kept  your  word.  It  is  an 
investment,  like  any  other,  in  which  one  receives  interest 
in  the  form  of  pleasure.  You  are  capable  of  all  the 
extravagance  in  the  world,  to  the  extent  of  your  fixed 
price  of  four  thousand  francs  a  month  !  If  it  required  a 
franc  more  you  would  very  soon  take  back  your  heart 
and  your  hat,  and  carry  them  elsewhere;  to  one  or  other 
of  my  rivals  in  the  neighborhood." 

"  It  is  true,"  answered  the  barrister,  coolly.  "  I  know 
how  to  count,  and  that  accomplishment  is  very  useful  to 
me  !  It  enables  me  to  know  exactly  how  and  where  I 
have  got  rid  of  my  fortune." 

"  So  you  really  know  ?  "  sneered  Juliette. 

"  And  I  can  tell  you,  madam,"  continued  he.  "  At  first 
you  were  not  very  exacting ,  but  the  appetite  came  with 
eating.  You  wished  for  luxury,  you  have  it;  splendid 
furniture,  you  have  it ;  a  complete  establishment,  extrav- 
agant dresses,  I  could  refuse  you  nothing.  You  required 
a  carriage,  a  horse,  I  gave  them  you.  And  I  do  not  men 
tion  a  thousand  other  whims.  I  include  neither  this 
Chinese  cabinet  nor  the  two  dozen  bracelets.  The  tota) 
is  four  hundred  thousand  francs  I  " 

"Are  you  sure  ?  " 


/'//A    t.EROl'C,!:    CASE.  71 

"  As  sure  as  any  one  can  be  who  has  had  that  amount, 
and  has  it  no  longer." 

"Four  hundred  thousand  francs,  only  fancy!  Are 
there  no  centimes  ?  " 

"No." 

"  Then,  my  dear  friend,  if  I  make  up  my  bill,  you  will 
still  owe  me  something." 

The  entrance  of  the  maid  with  the  tea-tray  interrupted 
this  amorous  duet,  of  which  Noel  had  experienced  more 
than  one  repetition.  The  barrister  held  his  tongue  on 
account  of  the  servant.  Juliette  did  the  same  on  account 
of  her  lover,  for  she  had  no  secrets  for  Charlotte,  who  had 
been  with  her  three  years,  and  with  whom  she  had  shared 
everything,  sometimes  even  her  lovers. 

Madame  Juliette  Chaffour  was  a  Parisian.  She  was 
born  about  1839,  somewhere  in  the  upper  end  of  the  Fau- 
bourg Montmarte.  Her  father  was  unknown.  Her  in- 
fancy was  a  long  alternation  of  beatings  and  caresses, 
equally  furious.  She  had  lived  as  best  she  could,  on 
sweetmeats  and  damaged  fruit ;  so  that  now  her  stomach 
could  stand  anything.  At  twelve  years  old  she  was  as 
thin  as  a  nail,  as  green  as  a  June  apple,  and  more 
depraved  than  the  inmates  of  the  prison  of  St.  Lazare. 
Prudhomme  would  have  said  that  this  precocious  little 
hussy  was  totally  destitute  of  morality.  She  had  not  the 
slightest  idea  what  morality  was.  She  thought  the  world 
was  full  of  honest  people  living  like  her  mother,  and  her 
mother's  friends.  She  feared  neither  God  nor  devil,  but 
she  was  afraid  of  the  police.  She  dreaded  also  certain 
mysterious  and  cruel  persons,  whom  she  had  heard 
spoken  of,  who  dwell  near  the  Palais  de  Justice,  and  who 
experience  a  malicious  pleasure  in  seeing  pretty  girls  in 
trouble.  As  she  gave  no  promise  of  beauty,  she  was  on 
the  point  of  being  placed  in  a  shop,  when  an  old  and 
respectable  gentleman,  who  had  known  her  mamma  some 
years  previously,  accorded  her  his  protection.  This  old 
gentleman,  prudent  and  provident  like  all  old  gentlemen, 
was  a  connoisseur,  and  knew  that  to  reap  one  must  sow. 
He  resolved  first  of  all  to  give  his  protege  just  a  varnish  of 
education.  He  procured  masters  for  her,  who  in  less 
than  three  years  taught  her  to  write,  to  play  the  piano, 
and  to  dance.  What  he  did  not  procure  her,  however, 
was  a  lover.  She  therefore  found  one  for  herself,  an 


72  THE  LEROL'GE  CASK. 

artist  who  taught  her  nothing  very  ne\v,  but  who  carried 
her  off  to  offer  her  half  of  what  he  possessed,  that  is  to 
say  nothing.  At  the  end  of  three  months,  having  had 
enough  of  it,  she  left  the  nest  of  her  first  love,  with  all  she 
possessed  tied  up  in  a  cotton  pocket  handkerchief. 

During  the  four  years  which  followed,  she  led  a  preca- 
rious existence,  sometimes  with  little  else  to  live  upon  but 
hope,  which  never  wholly  abandons  a  young  girl  who 
knows  she  has  pretty  eyes.  By  turns  she  sunk  to  the 
bottom,  or  rose  to  the  surface  of  the  stream  in  which  she 
found  herself.  Twice  had  fortune  in  new  gloves  come 
knocking  at  her  door,  but  she  had  not  the  sense  to  keep 
her.  With  the  assistance  of  a  strolling  player,  she  had 
just  appeared  on  the  stage  of  a  small  theatre,  and  spoken 
her  lines  rather  well,  when  Noel  by  chance  met  her,  loved 
her,  and  made  her  his  mistress.  Her  barrister,  as  she 
called  him,  did  not  displease  her  at  first.  After  a  few 
months,  though,  she  could  not  bear  him.  She  detested  him 
for  his  polite  and  polished  manners,  his  manly  bearing, 
his  distinguished  air,  his  contempt,  which  he  did  not  care 
to  hide,  for  all  that  is  low  and  vulgar,  and,  above  all,  for 
his  unalterable  patience,  which  nothing  could  tire.  Her 
great  complaint  against  him  was  that  he  was  not  at  all 
funny,  and  also,  that  he  absolutely  declined  to  conduct  her 
to  those  places  where  one  can  give  a  free  vent  to  one's 
spirits.  To  amuse  herself,  she  began  to  squander  money  ; 
and  her  aversion  for  her  lover  increased  at  the  same  rate 
as  her  ambition  and  his  sacrifices.  She  rendered  him  the 
most  miserable  of  men,  and  treated  him  like  a  dog ;  and 
this  not  from  any  natural  badness  of  disposition,  but  from 
principle.  She  was  persuaded  that  a  woman  is  beloved 
in  proportion  to  the  trouble  she  causes  and  the  mischief 
she  does. 

Juliette  was  not  wicked,  and  she  believed"  she  had  much 
to  complain  of.  The  dream  of  her  life  was  to  be  loved  in 
a  way  which  she  felt,  but  could  scarcely  have  explained. 
She  had  never  been  to  her  lovers  more  than  a  plaything. 
She  understood  this ;  and,  as  she  was  naturally  proud, 
the  idea  enraged  her.  She  dreamed  of  a  man  who  would 
be  devoted  enough  to  make  a  real  sacrifice  for  her,  a  lover 
who  would  descend  to  her  level,  instead  of  attempting  to 
raise  her  to  his.  She  despaired  of  ever  meeting  such  a 
one.  Noel's  extravagance  left  her  as  cold  as  ice.  She 


THE  LE ROUGE  CASE.  73 

believed  he  was  very  rich,  and  singularly,  in  spite  of  her 
greediness,  she  did  not  care  much  for  money.  Noel  would 
have  won  her  easier  by  a  brutal  frankness  that  would  have 
shown  her  clearly  his  situation.  He  lost  her  love  by  the 
delicacy  of  his  dissimulation,  that  left  her  ignorant  of  the 
sacrifices  he  was  making  for  her. 

Noel  adored  Juliette.  Until  the  fatal  day  he  saw  her, 
he  had  lived  like  a  sage.  This,  his  first  passion,  burned 
him  up;  and,  from  the  disaster,  he  saved  only  appear- 
ances. 

The  four  walls  remained  standing,  but  the  interior  of 
the  edifice  was  destroyed.  Even  heroes  have  their  vulner- 
able parts,  Achilles  died  from  a  wound  in  the  heel.  The 
most  artfully  constructed  armour  has  a  flaw  somewhere. 
Noel  was  assailable  by  means  of  Juliette,  and  through  her 
was  at  the  mercy  of  everything  and  every  one.  In  four 
years,  this  model  young  man,  this  barrister  of  immaculate 
reputation,  this  austere  moralist,  had  squandered  not  only 
his  own  fortune  on  her,  but  Madame  Gerdy's  also.  He 
loved  her  madly,  without  reflection,  without  measure,  with 
his  eyes  shut.  At  her  side,  he  forgot  all  prudence,  and 
thought  out  loud.  In  her  boudoir,  he  dropped  his  mask  of 
habitual  dissimulation,  and  his  vices  displayed  themselves 
at  ease,  as  his  limbs  in  a  bath.  He  felt  himself  so  power- 
less against  her,  that  he  never  essayed  to  struggle.  She 
possessed  him.  Once  or  twice  he  attempted  to  firmly  op- 
pose her  ruinous  caprices  ;  but  she  had  made  him  pliable 
as  the  osier.  Under  the  dark  glances  of  this  girl,  his 
strongest  resolutions  melted  more  quickly  than  snow  be- 
neath an  April  sun.  She  tortured  him  ;  but  she  had  also 
the  power  to  make  him  forget  all  by  a  smile,  a  tear,  or  a 
kiss.  Away  from  the  enchantress,  reason  returned  at  in- 
tervals, and,  in  his  lucid  moments,  he  said  to  himself, 
'"  She  does  not  love  me.  She  is  amusing  herself  at  my 
expense  ! "  But  the  belief  in  her  love  had  taken  such 
deep  root  in  his  heart  that  he  could  not  pluck  it  forth.  He 
made  himself  a  monster  of  jealousy,  and  then  argued  with 
himself  respecting  her  fidelity.  On  several  occasions  he 
had  strong  reasons  to  doubt  her  constancy,  but  he  never 
had  the  courage  to  declare  his  suspicions.  "  If  I  am  not 
mistaken,  I  shall  either  have  to  leave  her,"  thought  he, 
"  or  accept  everything  in  the  future."  At  the  idea  of  a  sep- 
aration from  Juliette,  he  trembled,  and  felt  his  passion 


74  THE  l.EKOi'CE  CASE. 

strong  enough  to  compel  him  to  submit  to  the  lowest  in- 
dignity. He  preferred  even  these  heartbreaking  doubts 
to  a  still  more  dreadful  certainty. 

The  presence  of  the  maid  who  took  a  considerable  time 
in  arranging  the  tea-table  gave  Noel  an  opportunity  to  re- 
cover himself.  He  looked  at  Juliette  ;  and  his  anger  took 
flight.  Already  he  began  to  ask  himself  if  he  had  not  been 
a  little  cruel  to  her.  When  Charlotte  retired,  he  came  and 
took  a  seat  on  the  divan  beside  his  mistress,  and  attempted 
to  put  his  arms  round  her.  "Come,"  said  he  in  a  cares- 
sing tone,  "you  have  been  angry  enough  for  this  evening. 
If  I  have  done  wrong,  you  have  punished  me  sufficiently. 
Kiss  me,  and  make  if  up." 

She  repulsed  him  angrily,  and  said  in  a  dry  tone, — "  Let 
me  alone !  How  many  times  must  I  tell  you  that  I  am 
very  unwell  this  evening." 

"  You  suffer,  my  love  ?  "  resumed  the  barrister,  "where  ? 
Shall  I  send  for  the  doctor  ?  " 

"  There  is  no  need.  I  know  the  nature  of  my  malady  ; 
it  is  called  ennui.  You  are  not  at  all  the  doctor  who  could 
do  anything  for  me." 

Noel  rose  with  a  discouraged  air,  and  took  his  place  at 
the  side  of  the  tea-table,  facing  her.  His  resignation  be- 
spoke how  habituated  he  had  become  to  these  rebuffs. 
Juliette  snubbed  him  ;  but  he  returned  always,  like  the 
poor  dog  who  lies  in  wait  all  day  for  the  time  when  his 
caresses  will  not  be  inopportune.  "  You  have  told  me 
very  often  during  the  last  few  months,  that  I  bother  you. 
What  have  I  done  ? "  he  asked. 

"  Nothing." 

"  Well,  then,  why—  ? " 

"  My  life  is  nothing  more  than  a  continual  yawn,"  an» 
swered  the  young  woman  ;  "  is  it  my  fault  ?  Do  you  think, 
it  very  amusing  to  be  your  mistress  ?  Look  at  yourself. 
Does  there  exist  another  being  as  sad,  as  dull  as  you, 
more  uneasy,  more  suspicious,  devoured  by  a  greater  jeal- 
ousy !  " 

"  Your  reception  of  me,  my  dear  Juliette,"  ventured  Noel 
"  is  enough  to  extinguish  gaiety  and  freeze  all  effusion. 
Then  one  always  fears  when  one  loves  ! " 

"  Really  !  Then  one  should  seek  a  woman  to  suit  one- 
self, or  have  her  made  to  order ;  shut  her  up  in  the  cellar, 
and  have  her  brought  upstairs  once  a  day,  at  the  end  of 


THE  LE ROUGE  CASE.  75 

dinner,  during  dessert,  or  with  the  champagne  just  by  way 
of  amusement." 

"  I  should  have  done  better  not  to  have  come,"  murmured 
the  barrister. 

"  Of  course.  I  am  to  remain  alone  here,  without  anything 
to  occupy  me  except  a  cigarette  and  a  stupid  book,  that  I 
go  to  sleep  over  ?  Do  you  call  this  an  existence,  never  to 
budge  out  of  the  house  even  ? " 

"  It  is  the  life  of  all  the  respectable  women  that  I  know," 
replied  the  barrister  drily. 

"  Then  I  cannot  compliment  them  on  their  enjoyment. 
Happily,  though,  I  am  not  a  respectable  woman,  and  I 
can  tell  you  I  am  tired  of  living  more  closely  shut  up  than 
the  wife  of  a  Turk,  with  your  face  for  sole  amusement." 

"  You  live  shut  up,  you  ?  " 

"  Certainly  !  "  continued  Juliette,  with  increased  bitter- 
ness. "  Come,  have  you  ever  brought  one  of  your  friends 
here  ?  No,  you  hide  me.  When  have  you  offered  me 
your  arm  for  a  walk  ?  Never,  your  dignity  would  be  sul- 
lied, if  you  were  seen  in  my  company.  I  have  a  carriage. 
Have  you  entered  it  half  a  dozen  times  ?  Perhaps  ;  but 
then  you  let  down  the  blinds !  I  go  out  alone.  I  walk 
about  alone ! " 

"  Always  the  same  refrain,"  interrupted  Noel,  anger  get- 
ting the  better  of  him,  "  always  these  uncalled  for  com- 
plaints. As  though  you  had  still  to  learn  the  reason  why 
this  state  of  things  exists." 

"  I  know  well  enough,"  pursued  the  young  woman, 
"  that  you  are  ashamed  of  me.  Yet  I  know  many  bigger 
swells  then  you,  who  do  not  mind  being  seen  with  their 
mistresses.  My  lord  trembles  for  his  fine  name  of  Gercly 
that  I  might  sully,  while  the  sons  of  the  most  noble  famv- 
lies  are  not  afraid  of  showing  themselves  in  public  places 
in  the  company  of  the  stupidest  of  kept  women." 

At  last  Noel  could  stand  it  no  longer,  to  the  great 
delight  of  Madame  Charfour.  "  Enough  of  these  recrim- 
inations !  "  cried  he,  rising.  "  If  I  hide  our  relations,  it  is 
because  I  am  constrained  to  do  so.  Of  what  do  you  com- 
plain ?  You  have  unrestrained  liberty  ;  and  you  use  it, 
too,  and  so  largely  that  your  actions  altogether  escape  me. 
You  accuse  me  of  creating  a  vacuum  around  you.  Who 
is  to  blame  ?  Did  I  grow  tired  of  a  happy  and  quiet  exis- 
lemv  ?  Mv  friends  would  have  come  to  see  us  in  honu.- 


76  THE  LE ROUGE  CASE. 

in  accordance  with  a  modest  competence.  Can  I  bring 
them  here  ?  On  seeing  all  this  luxury,  this  insolent  dis- 
play of  my  folly,  they  would  ask  each  other  where  I 
obtained  all  the  money  I  have  spent  on  you.  I  may  have 
a  mistress,  but  I  have  not  the  right  to  squander  a  fortune 
that  does  not  belong  to  me.  If  my  acquaintances  learnt 
to-morrow  that  it  is  I  who  keep  you,  my  future  prospects 
would  be  destroyed.  What  client  would  confide  his  inter- 
ests to  the  imbecile  who  ruined  himself  for  the  woman 
who  has  been  the  talk  of  all  Paris  ?  I  am  not  a  great  lord, 
1  have  neither  an  historical  name  to  tarnish,  nor  an  im- 
mense fortune  to  lose.  I  am  plain  Noel  Gerdy,  a  barris- 
ter. My  reputation  is  all  that  I  possess.  It  is  a  false 
one,  I  admit.  Such  as  it  is,  however,  I  must  keep  it,  and 
I  will  keep  it." 

Juliette  who  knew  her  Noel  thoroughly,  saw  that  she 
had  gone  far  enough.  She  determined,  therefore,  to  put 
him  in  a  good  humor  again.  "  My  friend,"  said  she,  tend- 
erly, "  I  did  not  wish  to  cause  you  pain.  You  must  be 
indulgent,  I  am  so  horribly  nervous  this  evening. "' 

This  sudden  change  delighted  the  barrister,  and  almost 
sufficed  to  calm  his  anger.  "  You  will  drive  me  mad  with 
your  injustice,"  said  he.  "While  I  exhaust  niy  imagina- 
tion to  find  what  can  be  agreeable  to  you,  you  ave  perpet- 
ually attacking  my  gravity  ;  yet  it  is  not  forty-eight  hours 
since  we  were  plunged  in  all  the  gaiety  of  tht  carnival.  I 
kept  the  fete  of  Shrove  Tuesday  like  a  student.  We 
\vent  to  a  theatre  ;  I  then  put  on  a  domino,  and  accompa- 
nied you  to  the  ball  at  the  opera,  and  ever,  invited  two  of 
my  friends  to  sup  with  us." 

"  It  was  very  gay  indeed  !  "  answered  the  young  woman, 
making  a  wry  face. 

"  So  I  think." 

"  Do  you  !  Then  you  are  not  hard  to  please.  We 
went  to  the  Vaudeville,  it  is  true,  but  separately,  as  we 
always  do,  I  alone  above,  you  below.  At  the  ball  you 
looked  as  though  you  were  burying  the  devil.  At  the  sup 
per  table  your  friends  were  as  melancholy  as  a  pair  of  owL. 
I  obeyed  your  orders  by  affecting  hardly  to  know  you. 
You  imbibed  like  a  sponge,  without  my  being  able  to  tell 
whether  you  were  drunk  or  not." 

"That  "proves,"  interrupted  Noei,  "  that  we  ought  not 
to  force  our  tastes.  Let  us  talk  of  something  else."  He 


THE  LEROUGE  CASE.  77 

took  a  few  steps  in  the  room,  then  looking  at  his  watch 
said  :  "  Almost  one  o'clock  ;  my  love,  I  must  leave  you." 

"  What !  you  are  not  going  to  remain  ? " 

"  No,  to  my  great  regret ;  my  mother  is  dangerously  ill. 
He  unfolded  and  counted  out  on  the  table  the  bank  notes 
he  had  received  from  old  Tabaret. 

"  My  little  Juliette,"  said  he,  "  here  are  not  eight  thou- 
sand francs,  but  ten  thousand.  You  will  not  see  me 
again  for  a  few  days," 

"  Are  you  leaving  Paris,  then  ?  " 

11  No  ;  but  my  entire  time  will  be  absorbed  by  an  affair 
of  immense  importance  to  myself.  If  I  succeed  in  my 
undertaking,,  my  dear,  our  future  happiness  is  assured,  and 
you  will  then  see  whether  I  love  you  ! " 

"  Oh,  my  clear  Noel,  tell  me  what  it  is." 

"  I  cannot  now." 

"  Tell  me  I  beseech  you,"  pleaded  the  young  woman, 
hanging  round  his  neck,  raising  herself  upon  the  tips  of 
her  toes  to  press  her  lips  to  his.  The  barrister  embraced 
her ;  and  his  resolution  seemed  to  waver. 

"  No,"  said  he  at  length,  "  seriously  I  cannot.  Of  what 
use  to  awaken  in  you  hopes  which  can  never  be  realized  ? 
Now,  my  darling,  listen  to  me.  Whatever  may  happen, 
understand,  you  must  under  no  pretext  whatever  again 
come  to  my  house,  as  you  once  had  the  imprudence  to  do. 
Do  not  even  write  to  me.  By  disobeying,  you  may  do  me 
an  irreparable  injury.  If  any  accident  occurs,  send  that 
old  rascal  Clergot  to  me.  I  shall  have  a  visit  from  him 
the  day  after  to-morrow,  for  he  holds  some  bills  of  mine," 

Juliette  recoiled,  menacing  Noel  with  a  mutinous  ges- 
ture. "  You  will  not  tell  me  anything  ?  "  insisted  she. 

"  Not  this  evening,  but  very  soon.''  replied  the  barrister, 
embarrassed  by  the  piercing  glance  of  his  mistress. 

"Always  some  mystery!"  cried  Juliette,  piqued  at  the 
want  of  success  attending  her  blandishments. 

"  This  will  be  the  last,  I  swear  to  you  !  " 

"  Noel,  my  good  man,"  said  the  young  woman  in  a 
serious  tone,  "you  are  hiding  something  from  me.  I 
understand  you,  as  you  know  ;  for  several  days  past  there 
has  been  something  or  other  the  matter  with  you,  you  have 
completely  changed." 

"  I  swear  to  you,  Juliette — " 

"  No,  swear  nothing  ;  I  should  not  believe  you.     Only 


;S  THE  LEKOUGE 

remember,  no  attempt  at  deceiving  me,  I  forewarn  you.  I 
am  a  woman  capable  of  revenge." 

The  barrister  was  evidently  ill  at  ease.  "  The  affair  in 
question,"  stammered  he,  "  can  as  well  fail  as  succeed." 

"Enough,"  interrupted  Juliette;  "your  will  shall  be 
obeyed.  I  promise  that.  Come,  sir,  kiss  me.  I  am  going 
to  bed." 

The  door  was  hardly  shut  upon  Noel  when  Charlotte 
was  installed  on  the  divan  near  her  mistress.  Had  the 
barrister  been  listening  at  the  door,  he  might  have  heard 
Madame  Juliette  saying,  "  No,  really,  I  can  no  longer 
endure  him.  What  a  bore  he  is,  my  girl.  Ah  !  if  I  was 
not  so  afraid  of  him,  wouldn't  I  leave  him  at  once  ?  But 
he  is  capable  of  killing  me  ! " 

The  girl  vainly  tried  to  defend  Noel ;  but  her  mistress 
did  not  listen.  She  murmured,  "  Why  does  he  absent 
himself,  and  what  is  he  plotting  ?  An  absence  of  eight 
days  is  suspicious.  Can  he  by  any  chance  intend  to  be 
married  ?  Ah  !  if  I  only  knew.  You  weary  me  to  death, 
my  good  Noel,  and  I  am  determined  to  leave  you  to  your- 
self one  of  these  fine  mornings ;  but  I  cannot  permit  you 
to. quit  me  first.  Supposing  he  is  going  to  get  married? 
But  I  will  not  allow  it.  I  must  make  inquiries." 

Noel,  however,  was  not  listening  at  the  door.  He  went 
along  the  Rue  de  Provence  as  quickly  as  possible,  gained 
the  Rue  St.  Lazare,  and  entered  the  house  as  he  had  de- 
parted, by  the  stable  door.  He  had  but  just  sat  down  in 
his  study,  when  the  servant  knocked.  "  Sir,"  cried  she, 
"  in  heaven's  name  answer  me  !  " 

He  opened  the  door  and  said  impatiently,  "  What  is  it 
now  ?  " 

"  Sir,"  stammered  the  girl  in  tears,  "  this  is  the  third 
time  I  have  knocked,  and  you  have  not  answered.  Come, 
I  implore  you.  I  am  afraid  madame  is  dying  !  " 

He  followed  her  to  Madame  Gerdy's  room.  He  must 
have  found  the  poor  woman  terribly  changed,  for  he  could 
not  restrain  a  movement  of  terror.  The  invalid  struggled 
painfully  beneath  her  coverings.  Her  face  was  of  a  livid 
paleness,  as  though  there  was  not  a  drop  of  blood  left  in 
her  veins ;  and  her  eyes,  which  glittered'  with  a  sombre 
light,  seemed  filled  with  a  fine  dust.  Her  hair,  loose  and 
disordered,  falling  over  her  cheeks  and  upon  her  shoulders, 
contributed  to  her  wild  appearance.  She  uttered  from 


THE  LEKOUGK  CASE.  79 

time  to  time  a  groan  hardly  audible,  or  murmured  unin- 
telligible words.  At  times,  a  fiercer  pang  than  the  former 
ones  forced  a  cry  of  anguish  from  her.  She  did  not  rec- 
ognise Noel. 

"  You  see,  sir,"  said  the  servant. 

"  Yes.  Who  would  have  supposed  her  malady  could 
advance  so  rapidly  ?  .  Quick,  run  to  Dr.  Herve's,  tell  him 
to  get  up,  and  to  come  at  once,  tell  him  it  is  for  me." 
And  he  seated  himself  in  an  arm-chair,  facing  the  suffering 
woman. 

Dr.  Herve  was  one  of  Noel's  friends,  an  old  school-fel- 
low, and  the  companion  of  his  student  days.  The  doctor's 
history  differed  in  nothing  from  that  of  most  young  men, 
who,  without  fortune,  friends,  or  influence,  enter  upon  the 
practice  of  the  most  difficult,  the  most  hazardous  of  pro- 
fessions that  exist  in  Paris,  where  one  sees  so  many  tal- 
ented young  doctors  forced,  to  earn  the  bread,  to  place 
themselves  at  the  disposition  of  infamous  drug  vendors. 
A  man  of  remarkable  courage  and  self-reliance,  Herve,  his 
studies  over,  said  to  himself,  "  No,  I  will  not  go  and  bury 
myself  in  the  country,  I  will  remain  in  Paris,  I  will  there 
become  celebrated.  I  shall  be  surgeon-in-chief  of  an 
hospital,  and  a  knight  of  the  Legion  of  Honour."  To  en- 
ter upon  this  path  of  thorns,  leading  to  a  magnificent  tri- 
umphal arch,  the  future  academician  ran  himself  twenty 
thousand  francs  in  debt  to  furnish  a  small  apartment. 
Here,  armed  with  a  patience  which  nothing  could  fatigue, 
an  iron  resolution  that  nothing  could  subdue,  he  struggled 
and  waited.  Only  those  who  have  experienced  it  can  un 
derstand  what  sufferings  are  endured  by  the  poor,  proud 
man,  who  waits  in  a  black  coat,  freshly  shaven,  with  smil- 
ing lips,  while  he  is  starving -of  hunger!  The  refinements 
of  civilization  have  inaugurated  punishments  which- put  in 
the  shade  the  cruelties  of  the  savage.  The  unknown 
physician  must  begin  by  attending  the  poor  who  cannot 
pay  him.  Sometimes  too  the  patient  is  ungrateful.  He  is 
profuse  in  promises  whilst  in  danger  ;  but,  when  -cured,  he 
scorns  the  doctor,  and  forgets  to  pay  him  his  fee. 

After  seven  years  of  heroic  perseverance,  Herve  has 
secured  at  last  a  circle  of  patients  who  pay  him.  During 
this  he  lived  and  paid  the  exorbitant  interest  of  his  debt, 
but  he  is  getting  on.  Three  or  four  pamphlets,  and  a  prize 
won  without  much  intrigue,  have  attracted  public  attention 


So  THE  LEROUGE  CASE. 

to  him.  But  he  is  no  longer  the  brave  young  enthusiast, 
full  of  the  faith  and  hope  that  attended  him  on  his  first 
visits.  He  still  wishes,  and  more  than  ever,  to  acquire 
distinction,  but  he  no  longer  expects  any  pleasure  from  his 
success.  He  used  up  that  feeling  in  the  days  when  he 
had  not  wherewith  to  pay  for  his  dinner.  No  matter  how 
great  his  fortune  may  be  in  the  clays  to  come,  he  has  al- 
ready paid  too-  dearly  for  it.  For  him  future  success  is 
only  a  kind  of  revenge.  Less  than  thirty-five  years  old, 
he  is  already  sick  of  the  world,  and  believes  in  nothing. 
Under  the  appearance  of  universal  benevolence  he  con- 
ceals universal  scorn.  His  finesse,  sharpened  by  the  grind' 
stone  of  adversity,  has  become  mischievous.  And,  while 
he  sees  through  all  disguises  worn  by  others,  he  hides  his 
penetration  carefully  under  a  mask  of  cheerful  good  nature 
and  jovialness.  But  he  is  kind,  he  loves  his  friends,  and  is 
devoted  to  them. 

He  arrived,  hardly  dressed,  so  great  had  been  his  haste. 
His  first  words  on  entering  were,  "  What  is  the  matter  ? '' 

Noel  pressed  his  hand  in  silence,  and  by  way  of  answer, 
pointed  to  the  bed.  In  less  than  a  minute,  the  doctor 
seized  the  lamp,  examined  the  sick  woman,  and  returned 
to  his  friend.  "  What  has  happened  ? "  he  asked  sharply. 
"  It  is  necessary  I  should  know  ?  " 

The  barrister  started  at  the  question.  "  Know  what  ?  " 
stammered  he. 

"  Everything !  "  answered  Herve.  "  She  is  suffering  from 
inflammation  of  the  brain.  There  is  no  mistaking  that. 
It  is  by  no  means  a  common  complaint,  in  spite  of  the 
constant  working  of  that  organ.  What  can  have  caused  it  ? 
There  appears  to  be  no  injury  to  the  brain  or  its  bony 
covering,  the  mischief,  then,  must  have  been  caused  by 
some  violent  emotion,  a  great  grief,  some  unexpected 
catastrophe  .  .  .  ." 

Noel  interrupted  his  friend  by  a  gesture,  and  drew  him 
into  the  embrasure  of  the  window.  "  Yes,  my  friend," 
said  he  in  a  low  tone,  "  Madame  Gerdy  has  experienced 
great  mental  suffering,  she  has  been  frightfully  tortured  by 
remorse.  Listen,  Herve.  I  will  confide  our  secret  to 
your  honor  and  your  friendship.  Madame  Gerdy  is  not  my 
mother  ;  she  despoiled  me,  to  enrich  her  son  with  my  for- 
tune and  my  name.  Three  weeks  ago  I  discovered  this 
unworthy  fraud ;  she  knows  it,  and  the  consequences  ter 


THE  LEROUGE  CASE.  81 

rify  her.  Ever  since,  she  has  been  dying  minute  by  min- 
ute." 

The  barrister  expected  some  exclamations  of  astonish' 
ment,  and  a  host  of  questions  from  his  friend  ;  but  the 
doctor  received  the  explanation  without  remark,  as  a 
simple  statement,  indispensable  to  his  understanding  the 
case.  "  Three  weeks,"  he  murmured ;  "  then,  that  explains 
everything.  Has  she  appeared  to  suffer  much  during  the 
time'?"' 

"  She  complained  of  violent  headaches,  dimness  of 
sight,  and  intolerable  pains  in  her  ears,  she  attributed  all 
that  though  to  megrims.  Do  not,  however,  conceal  any- 
thing from  me,  Herve  ;  is  her  complaint  very  serious  ?  " 

"So  serious,  my  friend,  so  invariably  fatal,  that  I  am 
almost  undertaking  a  hopeless  task  in  attempting  a  cure." 

"  Ah  !  good  heaven  !  " 

"  You  asked  for  the  truth,  and  I  have  told  it  you.  If  I 
had  that  courage,  it  was  because  you  told  me  this  poor 
woman  is  not  your  mother.  Nothing  short  of  a  miracle 
can  save  her;  but  this  miracle  we  may  hope  and  prepare 
for.  And  now  to  work  1 " 

VI. 

THE  clock  of  the  St.  Lazare  terminus  was  striking  eleven 
as  old  Tabaret,  after  shaking  hands  with  Noel,  left  his 
house,  still  bewildered  by  what  he  had  just  heard.  Obliged 
to  restrain  himself  at  the  time,  he  now  fully  appreciated  his 
liberty  of  action.  It  was  with  an  unsteady  gait  that  he 
took  his  first  steps  in  the  street,  like  the  toper,  who,  after 
being  shut  up  in  a  warm  room,  suddenly  goes  out  into  the 
open  air.  He  was  beaming  with  pleasure,  but  at  the  same 
time  felt  rather  giddy,  from  that  rapid  succession  of  unex- 
pected revelations,  which,  so  he  thought,  had  suddenly 
placed  him  in  possession  of  the  truth.  Notwithstanding  his 
haste  to  arrive  at  M.  Daburon's  he  did  not  take  a  cab.  He 
felt  the  necessity  of  walking.  He  was  one  of  those  who 
require  exercise  to  see  things  clearly.  When  he  moved 
about  his  ideas  fitted  and  classified  themselves  in  his 
brain,  like  grains  of  wheat  when  shaken  in  a  bushel. 
Without  hastening  his  pace,  he  reached  the  Rue  de  la 
Chaussee  d'Antin,  crossed  the  Boulevard  with  its  resplen- 
dent cafes,  and  turned  to  the  Rue  Richelieu.  He 


82  THE  I.EROL'GE  CASE. 

walked  along,  unconscious  of  external  objects,  tripping 
and  stumbling  over  the  inequalities  of  the  sidewalk,  or 
slipping  on  the  greasy  pavement.  If  he  followed  the 
proper  road,  it  was  a  purely  mechanical  impulse  that 
guided  him.  His  mind  was  wandering  at  random  through 
the  field  of  probabilities,  and  following  in  the  darkness 
the  mysterious  thread,  the  almost  imperceptible  end  of 
which  he  had  seized  at  La  Jonchere.  -  Like  all  persons 
labouring  under  strong  emotion  without  knowing  it,  he 
talked  aloud,  little  thinking  into  what  indiscreet  ears 
his  exclamations  and  disjointed  phrases  might  fall.  At 
every  step,  we  meet  in  Paris  people  babbling  to  themselves, 
and  unconsciously  confiding  to  the  four  winds  of  heaven 
their  dearest  secrets,  like  cracked  vases  that  allow  their 
contents  to  steal  away.  Often  the  passers-by  mistake 
these  eccentric  monologuists  for  lunatics.  Sometimes  the 
curious  follow  them,  and  amuse  themselves  by  receiving 
these  strange  confidences.  It  was  an  indiscretion  of  this 
kind  which  told  the  ruin  of  Riscara  the  rich  banker. 
Lambreth,  the  assassin  of  the  Rue  de  Venise,  betrayed 
himself  in  a  similar  manner. 

"  What  luck  !  "  exclamed  old  Tabaret.  "  What  an  in- 
credible piece  of  good  fortune  !  Gevrol  may  dispute  it  if 
he  likes,  but  after  all,  chance  is  the  cleverest  agent  of  the 
police.  Who  would  have  imagined  such  a  history?  I 
was  not,  however,  very  far  from  the  reality.  I  guessed 
there  was  a  child  in  the  case.  But  who  would  have 
dreamed  of  a  substitution  ? — an  old  sensational  effect, 
that  playwrights  no  longer  dare  make  use  of.  This  is  a 
striking  example  of  the  danger  of  following  preconceived 
ideas  in  police  investigation.  We  are  affrighted  at  unlike- 
lihood ;  and,  as  in  this  case,  the  greatest  unlikelihood  often 
proves  to  be  the  truth.  We  retire  before  the  absurd,  and 
it  is  the  absurd'  that  we  should  examine.  Everything  is 
possible.  I  would  not  take  a  thousand  crowns  for  what  I 
have  learnt  this  evening.-  I  shall  kill  two  birds  with  one 
stone.  I  deliver  up  the  criminal ;  and  I  give  Noel  a  hearty 
lift  up  to  recover  his  title  and  his  fortune.  There,  at  least, 
is  one  who  deserves  what  he  will  get.  For  once  I  shall  not 
be  sorry  to  see  a  lad  get  on,  who  has  been  brought  up  in  the 
school  of  adversity.  But,  pshaw !  he  will  be  like  all  the 
rest.  Prosperity  will  turn  his  brain.  Already  he  begins 
to  prate  of  his  ancestors.  .  .  .  Poor  humanity !  he  almost 


'HIE  L&ROUGE  CASE.  83 

made  me  laugh.  .  .  .  But  it  is  mother  Gercly  who  sur- 
prises me  most.  A  woman  to  whom  I  would  have  given 
absolution  without  waiting  to  hear  her  confess.  When  I 
think  that  I  was  on  the  point  of  proposing  to  her,  ready  to 
marry  her  !  B-r-r-r ! "  At  this  thought,  the  old  fellow 
shivered.  He  saw  himself  married,  and  all  on  a  sudden, 
discovering  the  antecedents  of  Madame  Tabaret,  becoming 
mixed  up  with  a  scandalous  prosecution,  compromised, 
and  rendered  ridiculous.  "  When  I  think,"  he  continued, 
"  that  my  worthy  Gevrol  is  running  after  the  man  with  the 
earrings  !  Run,  my  boy,  run  !  Travel  is  a  good  thing  for 
youth.  Won't  he  be  vexed  ?  He  will  wish  me  dead.  But 
I  don't  care.  If  any  one  wishes  to  do  me  an  injury,  M. 
Daburon  will  protect  me.  Ah !  there  is  one  to  whom  I 
am  going  to  do  a  good  turn.  I  can  see  him  now,  opening 
his  eyes  like  saucers,  when  I  say  to  him,  '  I  have  the  ras- 
cal ! '  He  can  boast  of  owing  me  something.  This  in- 
vestigation will  bring  him  honour,  or  justice  is  not  justice. 
He  will,  at  least,  be  made  an  officer  of  the  Legion  of 
Honour.  So  much  the  better  !  I  like  him.  If  he  is  asleep, 
I  am  going  to  give  him  an  agreeable  awaking.  Won't  lie 
just  overpower  me  with  questions  !  He  will  want  to  know 
everything  at  once."  Old  Tabaret,  who  was  now  crossing 
the  Pont  des  Saints-Peres,  stopped  suddenly.  "  But  the  de- 
tails !  "  said  he.  "  By  Jove  !  I  have  none.  I  only  know  the 
bare  facts."  He  resumed  his  walk,  and  continued,  "  They 
are  right  at  the  office,  I  am  too  enthusiastic ;  I  jump  at 
conclusions,  as  Gevrol  says.  When  I  was  with  Noel,  I 
should  have  cross-examined  him,  got  hold  of  a  quantity  of 
useful  details ;  .but  I  did  not  even  think  of  doing  so.  I 
drank  in  his  words.  I  would  have  had  him  tell  the  story 
in  a  sentence.  All  the  same,  it  is  but  natural ;  when  one 
is  pursuing  a  stag,  one  does  not  stop  to  shoot  a  blackbird. 
But  I  see  very  well  now,  I  did  not  draw  him  out  enough. 
On  the  other  hand,  by  questioning  him  more,  I  might  have- 
awakened  suspicions  in  Noel's  mind,  and  led  him  to  dis 
cover  that  I  am  working  for  the  Rue  de  Jerusalem.  To 
be  sure,  I  do  not  blush  for  my  connection  with  the  police. 
I  am  even  vain  of  it ;  but  at  the  same  time,  I  prefer  thai 
no  one  should  know  of  it.  People  are  so  stupid,  that  the\ 
detest  the  police,  who  protect  them.  I  must  be  calm  and 
on  my  best  behaviour,  for  here  I  am  at  the  end  of  my 
journey." 


S.|  THE  I.EKUl'^J:    CASE. 

M.  Daburon  had  just  gone  to  bed,  but  had  given  orders 
to  his  servant ;  so  that  M.  Tabaret  had  but  to  give  his 
name,  to  be  at  once  conducted  to  the  magistrate's  sleeping 
apartment.  At  sight  of  his  amateur  detective,  M.  Daburon 
raised  himself  in  his  bed,  saying,  "  There  is  something  ex 
traordinary  !  What  have  you  discovered  ?  have  you  got  a 
clue?" 

"  Better  than  that,"  answered  the  old  fellow,  smiling 
with  pleasure. 

"  Speak  quickly  !  " 

"  I  know  the  culprit  !  " 

Old  Tabaret  ought  to  have  been  satisfied  ;  he  certainly 
produced  an  effect.  The  magistrate  bounded  in  his  bed. 
"  Already  !  "  said  he.  "  Is  it  possible  ?  " 

"  I  have  the  honour  to  repeat  to  you,  sir,"  resumed  the 
old  fellow,  "  that  I  know  the  author  of  the  crime  of  La 
Jonchere." 

"  And  I,  "  said  M.  Daburon,  "  I  proclaim  you  the  great 
est  of  all  detectives,  past  or  future.  I  shall  certainly 
never  hereafter  undertake  an  investigation  without  your 
assistance." 

"  You  are  too  kind,  sir.  I  have  had  little  or  nothing 
to  do  in  the  matter.  The  discovery  is  due  to  chance 
alone." 

"  You  are  modest,  M.  Tabaret.  Chance  assists  only 
the  clever,  and  it  is  that  which  annoys  the  stupid.  But  I 
beg  you  will  be  seated  and  proceed." 

Then  with  the  lucidness  and  precision  of  which  few 
would  have  believed  him  capable,  the  old  fellow  repeated 
to  the  magistrate  all  that  he  had  learned  from  Noel.  He 
quoted  from  memory  the  extracts  from  the  letters,  almost 
without  changing -a  word.  "These  letters,"  added  he,  "  I 
have  seen ;  and  I  have  even  taken  one,  in  order  to  verify 
the  writing.  Here  it  is." 

"  Yes,"  murmured  the  magistrate — "  Yes,  M.  Tabaret, 
you  have  discovered  the  criminal.  The  evidence  is  palpa- 
ble, even  to  the  blind.  Heaven  has  willed  this.  Crime 
engenders  crime.  The  great  sin  of  the  father  has  made 
the  son  an  assassin." 

"  I  have  not  given  you  the  names,  sir,"  resumed  old 
Tabaret.  "I  wished  first  to  hear  your  opinion." 

"  Oh  !  you  can  name  them,"  interrupted  M.  Daburon 
with  a  certain  degree  of  animation,  "  no  matter  how  high 


TJJE  LEKOUGE  CASE.  85 

he  may  have  to  strike,  a  French  magistrate  has  never  hesi- 
tated." 

"I  know  it,  sir,  but  we  are  going  very  high  this  time, 
the  father  who  has  sacrificed  his  legitimate  son  for  the  sake 
of  his  bastard  is  Count  Rheteau  de  Commarin,  and  the 
assassin  of  Wildow  Lerouge  is  the  bastard,  Viscount  Albert 
de  Commarin  ! " 

M.  Tabaret,  like  an  accomplished  artist,  had  uttered 
these  words  slowly,  and  with  a  deliberate  emphasis,  confi- 
dently expecting  to  produce  a  great  impression.  His 
expectation  was  more  than  realized.  M.  Daburon  was 
struck  with  stupor.  He  remained  motionless,  his  eyes 
dilated  with  astonishment.  Mechanically  he  repeated  like 
a  word  without  meaning  which  he  was  trying  to  impress 
upon  his  memory :  "  Albert  de  Commarin  !  Albejt  de 
Commarin !  " 

"  Yes,"  insisted  old  Tabaret,  "  the  noble  viscount.  It 
is  incredible,  I  know."  But  he  perceived  the  alteration 
in  the  magistrate's  face,  and  a  little  frightened,  he  ap- 
proached the  bed.  "  Are  you  unwell,  sir  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  No,"  answered  M.  Daburon,  without  exactly  knowing 
what  he  said.  "  I  am  very  well ;  but  the  surprise,  the 
emotion, — " 

"  I  understand  that,"  said  the  old  fellow. 

"  Yes,  it  is  not  surprising,  is  it  ?  I  should  like  to  be 
alone  a  few  minutes.  Do  not  leave  the  house  though  ;  we 
must  converse  at  some  length  on  this  business.  Kindly 
pass  into  my  study,  there  ought  still  to  be  a  fire  burning 
there.  I  will  join  you  directly." 

Then  M.  Daburon  slowly  got  out  of  bed,  put  on  a  dress- 
ing gown,  and  seated  himself,  or  rather  fell,  into  an  arm- 
chair. His  face,  to  which  in  the  exercise  of  his  austere 
functions  he  had  managed  to  give  the  immobility  of 
marble,  reflected  the  most  cruel  agitation  ;  while  his  eyes 
betrayed  the  inward  agony  of  his  soul.  The  name  of 
Commarin,  so  unexpectedly  pronounced,  awakened  in  him 
the  most  sorrowful  recollections,  and  tore  open  a  wound 
but  badly  healed.  This  name  recalled  to  him  an  event 
which  had  rudely  extinguished  his  youth  and  spoilt  his  life. 
Involuntarily,  he  carried  his  thoughts  back  to  his  epoch,  so 
as  to  taste  again  all  its  bitterness.  An  hour  ago,  it  had 
srcmed  to  him  far  removed,  and  already  hidden  in  the 
mists  of  the  past ;  one  word  had  sufficed  to  recall  it,  clear 


86  y//A  LLROi\,E  T./.VA. 

and  distinct.  It  seemed  to  him  now  that  this  event,  in 
which  the  name  of  Albert  de  Commarin  was  mixed  up, 
dated  from  yesterday.  In  reality  nearly  two  years  elapsed 
since. 

Pierre-Marie  Daburon  belonged  to  one  of  the  oldest 
families  of  Foitou.  Three  or  four  of  his  ancestors  had 
filled  successively  the  most  important  positions  in  the  prov- 
ince. Why,  then,  had  they  not  bequeathed  a  title  and  a 
coat  of  arms  to  their  descendants  ?  The  magistrate's  father 
possesses,  round  about  the  ugly  modern  chateau  which 
he  inhabits,  more  than  eight  hundred  thousand  francs' 
worth  of  the  most  -valuable  land.  By  his  mother,  a  Cotte« 
vise-Luxe,  he  is  related  to  the  highest  nobility  of  Poitou, 
one  of  the  most  exclusive  that  exists  in  France,  as  every 
one  knows.  When  he  received  his  nomination  in  Paris, 
his  relationship  caused  him  to  be  received  at  once  by  five 
or  six  aristocratic  families,  and  it  was  not  long  before  he 
extended  his  circle  of  acquaintance.  He  possessed,  how- 
ever, none  of  the  qualifications  which  ensure  social 
success.  He  was  cold  and  grave  even  to  sadness,  reserved 
and  timid  even  to  excess.  His  mind  wanted  brilliancy 
and  lightness  ;  Jie  lacked  the  facility  of  repartee,  and  the 
amiable  art  of  conversing  without  a  subject ;  he  could 
neither  tell  a  lie,  nor  pay  an  insipid  compliment.  Like 
most  men  who  feel  deeply,  he  was  unable  to  interpret  his 
impressions  immediately.  He  required  to  reflect  and  con- 
sider within  himself.  However,  he  was  sought  after  for  more 
solid  qualities  than  these  :  for  the  nobleness  of  his  senti- 
ments, his  pleasant  disposition,  and  the  certainty  of  his 
connections.  Those  who  knew  him  intimately  quickly 
learned  to  esteem  his  sound  judgment,  his  keen  sense  of 
honour,  and  to  discover  under  his  cold  exterior  a  warm 
heart,  an  excessive  sensibility,  and  a  delicacy  almost  fem- 
inine. In  a  word,  although  he  might  be  eclipsed  in  a 
room  full  of  strangers  or  simpletons,  he  charmed  all  hearts 
in  a  smaller  circle,  where  he  felt  warmed  by  an  atmosphere 
of  sympathy.  He  accustomed  himself  to  go  about  a 
great  deal.  He  reasoned,  wisely  perhaps,  that  a  magis- 
trate can  make  better  use  of  his  time  than  by'  remaining 
shut  up  in  his  study,  in  company  with  books  of  law.  He 
thought  that  a  man  called  upon  to  judge  others,  ought  to 
know  them,  and  for  that  purpose  study  them.  An  atten- 
tive and  discreet  observer,  he  examined  the  play  of  human 


THE  I.EKOUGE  CASE.  87 

interests  and  passions,  exercised  himself  in  disentangling 
and  manoeuvring  at  need  the  strings  of  the  puppets  he 
saw  moving  around  him.  Piece  by  piece,  so  to  say,  he 
laboured  to  comprehend  the  working  of  the  complicated 
machine  called  society,  of  which  he  was  charged  to  over- 
look the  movements,  regulate  the  springs,  and  keep  the 
wheels  in  order. 

And  on  a  sudden,  in  the  early  part  of  the  winter  of  1860 
and  1861,  M.  Daburon  disappeared.  His  friends  sought 
for  him,  but  he  was  nowhere  to  be  met  with.  What  could 
he  be  doing  ?  Inquiry  resulted  in  the  discovery  that  he 
passed  nearly  all  his  evenings  at  the  house  of  the  Mar- 
chioness  d'Arlange.  The  surprise  was  as  great  as  it  was 
natural.  This  clear  marchioness  was,  or  rather  is, — for 
she  is  still  in  the  land  of  the  living, — a  personage  whom 
one  would  consider  rather  out  of  date.  She  is  surely  the 
most  singular  legacy  bequeathed  us  by  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury. How,  and  by  what  marvellous  process  she  had 
been  preserved  such  as  we  see  her,  it  is  impossible  to  say. 
Listening  to  her,  you  would  swear  that  she  was  yesterday 
at  one  of  those  parties  given  by  the  queen  where  cards 
and  high  stakes  were  the  rule,  much  of  the  annoyance  of 
Louis  XVI.,  and  where  the  great  ladies  cheated  openly  in 
emulation  of  each  other.  Manners,  language,  habits,  al- 
most costume,  she  has  preserved  everything  belonging  to 
that  period  about  which  authors  have  written  only  to  dis- 
play the  defects.  Her  appearance  alone  will  tell  more 
than  an  exhaustive  article,  and  an  hour's  conversation 
with  her,  more  than  a  volume.  She  was  born  in  a  little 
principality,  where  her  parents  had  taken  refuge  whilst 
awaiting  the  chastisements  and  repentance  of  an  erring 
and  rebellious  people.  She  had  been  brought  up  amongst 
the  old  nobles  of  the  emigration,  in  some  very  ancknt  and 
very  gilded  apartment,  just  as  though  she  had  been  in  a 
cabinet  of  curiosities.  Her  mind  had  awakened  amid  the 
hum  of  antediluvian  conversations,  her  imagination  had 
first  been  aroused  by  arguments  a  little  less  profitable 
than  those  of  an  assembly  of  deaf  persons  convoked  to 
decide  upon  the  merits  of  the  work  of  some  distinguished 
musician.  Here  she  imbibed  a  fund  of  ideas,  which,  ap- 
plied to  the  forms  of  society  of  to-day,  are  as  grotesque  as 
would  be  those  of  a  child  shut  up  until  twenty  years  of  ag& 
in  an  Assyrian  museum.  The  first  empire,  the  vestora: 


S3  y  y/A  LEKQUGE  CASE. 

the  monarchy  of  July,  the  second  republic,  the  second  um- 
pire, have  passed  beneath  her  windows,  but  she  has  not 
taken  the  trouble  to  open  them.  All  that  has  happened 
since  '89  she  considers  as  never  having  been.  For  her  it 
is  a  nightmare  from  which  she  is  still  awaiting  a  release. 
She  has  looked  at  everything,  but  then  she  looks  through 
her  own  pretty  glasses  which  show  her  everything  as  she 
would  wish  it,  and  which  are  to  be  obtained  of  dealers  in 
illusions. 

Though  over  sixty-eight  years  old  she  is  as  straight  as 
a  poplar,  and  has  never  been  ill.  She  is  vivacious,  and 
active  to  excess,  and  can  only  keep  still  when  asleep,  or 
when  playing  her  favorite  game  of  piquet.  She  has  her 
four  meals  a  day,  eats  like  a  vintager,  and  takes  her  wine 
neat.  She  professes  an  undisguised  contempt  for  the 
silly  women  of  our  century  who  live  for  a  week  on  a 
partridge,  and  inundate  with  water  grand  sentiments 
which  they  entangle  in  long  phrases.  She  has  always 
been,  and  still  is,  very  positive,  and  her  wrord  is  prompt 
and  easily  understood.  She  never  shrinks  from  using  the 
most  appropriate  word  to  express  her  meaning.  So  much 
the  worse,  if  some  delicate  ears  object !  She  heartily 
detests  hypocrisy.  She  believes  in  God,  but  she  believes 
also  in  M.  de  Voltaire,  so  that  her  devotion  is,  to  say  the 
least,  problematical.  However,  she  is  on  good  terms  \\iih 
the  curate  of  her  parish,  and  is  very  particular  about  the 
arrangement  of  her  dinner  on  the  days  she  honours  him 
with  an  invitation  to  her  table.  She  seems  to  consider 
him  a  subaltern,  very  useful  to  her  salvation,  and  capable 
of  opening  the  gate  of  paradise  for  her.  Such  as  she  is, 
she  is  shunned  like  the  plague.  Everybody  dreads  her 
loud  voice,  her.  terrible  indiscretion,  and  the  frankness  of 
speech  which  she  affects,  in  order  to  have  the  right  of 
saying  the  most  unpleasant  things  which  pass  through  her 
head.  Of  all  her  family,  there  osly  remains  her  grand- 
daughter, whose  father  died  very  young.  Of  a  fortune 
originally  large,  and  partly  restored  by  the  indemnity 
allowed  by  the  government,  but  since  administered  in  the 
most  careless  manner,  she  has  only  been  able  to  preserve 
an  income  of  twenty  thousand  francs,  which  diminishes 
day  by  day.  She  is  also,  proprietor  of  the  pretty  little 
house  which  she  inhabits,  situated  near  the  Invalides, 
between  a  rather  narrow  court-yard,  and  a  very  extensive 


THE  LE ROUGE  CASE.  89 

garden.  So  circumstanced,  she  considers  herself  the 
most  unfortunate  of  God's  creatures,  and  passes  the  greater 
part  of  her  life  complaining  of  her  poverty.  From  time  to 
time,  especially  after  some  exceptionally  bad  speculation, 
she  confesses  that  what  she  fears  most  is  to  die  in  a 
pauper's  bed. 

A  friend  of  M.  Daburon's  presented  him  one  evening 
to  the  Marchioness  d'Arlange,  having  dragged  him  to  her 
house  in  a  mirthful  mood,  saying,  "  Come  with  me,  and  I 
will  show  you  a  phenomenon,  a  ghost  of  the  past  in  flesh 
and  bone."  The  marchioness  rather  puzzled  the  magis- 
trate the  first  time  he  was  admitted  to  her  presence.  On 
his  second  visit,  she  amused  him  very  much ;  for  which 
reason,  he  came  again.  But  after  a  while  she  no  longer 
amused  him,  though  he  still  continued  a  faithful  and  con- 
stant visitor  to  the  rose-coloured  boudoir  wherein  she 
passed  the  greater  part  of  her  life.  Madame  d'Arlange 
conceived  a  violent  friendship  for  him,  and  became 
eloquent  in  his  praises.  "A  most  charming  young  man," 
she  declared,  "  delicate  and  sensible  !  What  a  pity  he  is 
not  born!"  One  can  receive  him  though,  all  the  same  ; 
his  forefathers  were  very  decent  people,  and  his  mother 
was  a  Cottevise  who,  however,  went  wrong.  I  wish  him 
well,  and  will  do  all  I  can  to  push  him  forward."  The 
strongest  proof  of  friendship  he  received  from  her  was, 
that  she  condescended  to  pronounce  his  name  like  the 
rest  of  the  world.  She  had  preserved  that  ridiculous 
affectation  of  forgetful  ness  of  the  names  of  people  who 
were  not  of  noble  birth,  and  who  in  her  opinion  had  no 
right  to  names.  She  was  so  confirmed  in  this  habit,  that, 
if  by  accident  she  pronounced  such  a  name  correctly,  she 
immediately  repeated  it  with  some  ludicrous  alteration. 
During  his  first  visit,  M.  Daburon  was  extremely  amused 
at  hearing  his  name  altered  every  time  she  addressed  him. 
Successively  she  made  it  Taburon,  Dabiron,  Maliron, 
Laliron,  Laridon  ;  but,  in  three  months  time,  she  called 
him  Daburon  as  distinctly  as  if  he  had  been  a  duke  of 
something,  and  a  lord  of  somewhere. 

Occasionally  she  exerted  herself  to  prove  to  the  worthy- 
magistrate  that  he  was  a  nobleman,  or  at  least  ought  to 
be.  She  would  have  been  happy,  if  she  could  have  per- 
suaded him  to  adopt  some  title,  and  have  a  helmet 
engraved  upon  his  visiting  cards.  "  How  is  it  possible," 


po  77/A   I.EK 

said  she,  "that  your  ancestors,  eminent,  wealthy,  and 
influential,  never  thought  of  being  raised  from  the  com- 
mon herd  and  securing  a  title  for  their  descendants  ?  To- 
day you  would  possess  a  presentable  pedigree." — "My 
ancestors  were  wise,"  responded  M.  Daburon.  "  They 
preferred  being  foremost  among  their  fellow-citizens  to 
becoming  last  among  the  nobles."  Upon  which  the  mar- 
chioness explained,  and  proved  to  demonstration,  that 
between  the  most  influential  and  wealthy  citizen  and  the 
smallest  scion  of  nobility,  there  was  an  abyss  that  all  the 
money  in  the  world  could  not  fill*  up. 

They  who  were  so  surprised  at  the  frequency  of  the 
magistrate's  visits  to  this  celebrated  "  relic  of  the  past " 
did  not  know  that  lady's  grand-daughter,  or,  at  least,  did 
not  recollect  her ;  she  went  out  so  seldom !  The  old 
marchioness  did  not  care,  so  she  said,  to  be  bothered  with 
a  young  spy  who  would  be  in  her  way  when  she  related 
some  of  her  choice  anecdotes.  Claire  d'Arlange  was  just 
seventeen  years  old.  She  was  extremely  graceful  and 
gentle  in  manner,  and  lovely,  in  her  natural  innocence. 
She  had  a  profusion  of  fine  light  brown  hair,  which  fell  in 
ringlets  over  her  well-shaped  neck  and  shoulders.  Her 
figure  was  still  rather  slender  ;  but  her  features  recalled 
Guide's  most  celestial  faces.  Her  blue  eyes,  shaded  by 
long  lashes  of  a  hue  darker  than  her  hair,  had  above  all  an 
adorable  expression.  A  certain  air  of  antiquity,  the  result 
of  her  association  with  her  grandmother,  added  yet  another 
charm  to  the  young  girl's  manner.  She  had  more  sense, 
however,  than  her  relative  ;  and,  as  her  education  had  not 
been  neglected,  she  had  imbibed  pretty  correct  ideas  of  the 
world  in  which  she  lived.  This  education,  these  practical 
ideas,  Claire  owed  to  her  governess,  upon  whose  shouldeis 
the  marchioness  had  thrown  the  entire  responsibility 
of  cultivating  her  mind.  This  governess,  Mademoiselle 
Schmidt,  chosen  at  hazard,  happened  by  the  most  fortunate 
chance  to  be  both  well  informed  and  "possessed  of  principle. 
She  was,  what  is  often  met  with  on  the  other  side  of  the 
Rhine,  a  woman  at  once  romantic  and  practical,  of  the 
tenderest  sensibility  and  the  severest  virtue.  This  good 
woman,  while  she  carried  her  pupil  into  the  land  of  senti- 
mental phantasy  and  poetical  imaginings,  gave  her  at  the 
same  time  the  most  practical  instruction  in  matters  relating 
to  actual  life.  She  revealed  to  Claire  all  the  peculiarities 


THE  LEROUGE  CASE.  91 

of  thought  antl  manner  that  rendered  her  grandmother  so 
ridiculous,  and  taught  her  to  avoid  them,  but  without 
ceasing  to  respect  them. 

Every  evening,  on  arriving  at  Madame  d'Arlange's,  M. 
Daburon  was  sure  to  find  Claire  seated  beside  her  grand- 
mother, and  it  was  for  that  that  he  called.  Whilst  listening 
with  an  inattentive  ear  to  the  old  lady's  rigmaroles  and  her 
interminable  anecdotes  of  the  emigration,  he  gazed  upon 
Claire,  as  a  fanatic  upon  his  idol.  Often  in  his  ecstasy 
he  forgot  where  he  was  for  the  moment  and  became  abso- 
lutely oblivious  of  the  old  lady's  presence,  although  her 
shrill  voice  was  piercing  the  tympanum  of  his  ear  like  a 
needle.  Then  he  would  answer  her  at  cross-purposes, 
committing  the  most  singular  blunders,  which  he  labored 
afterwards  to  explajn.  But  he  need  not  have  taken  the 
trouble.  Madame  d'Arlange  did  not  perceive  her  courtier's 
absence  of  mind  ;  her  questions  were  of  such  a  length,  that 
she  did  not  care  about  the  answers.  Having  a  listener, 
she  was  satisfied,  provided  that  from  time  to  time  he  gave 
signs  of  life.  When  obliged  to  sit  down  to  play  piquet,  he 
cursed  below  his  breath  the  game  and  its  detestable  inventor. 
He  paid  no  attention  to  his  cards.  He  made  mistakes 
every  moment,  discarding  what  he  should  keep  in  and 
forgetting  to  cut.  The  old  lady  was  annoyed  by  these  con- 
tinual distractions,  but  she  did  scruple  to  profit  by  them. 
She  looked  at  the  discard,  changed  the  cards  which  did  not 
suit  her,  while  she  audaciously  scored  points  she  never 
made,  and  pocketed  the  money  thus  won  without  shame  or 
remorse.  M.  Daburon's  timidity  was  extreme,  and  Claire 
was  unsociable  to  excess,  they  therefore  seldom  spoke  to 
each  other.  During  the  entire  winter,  the  magistrate  did 
not  directly  address  the  young  girl  ten  times  ;  and,  on  these 
rare  occasions,  he  had  learned  mechanically  by  heart  the 
phrase  he  proposed  to  repeat  to  her,  well  knowing  that, 
without  this  precaution,  he  would  most  likely  be  unable  to 
finish  what  he  had  to  say.  But  at  least  he  saw  her,  he 
breathed  the  same  air  with  her,  he  heard  her  voice,  whose 
pure  and  harmonious  vibrations  thrilled  his  very  soul.  By 
constantly  watching  her  eyes,  he  learned  to  understand  all 
their  expressions.  He  believed  he  could  read  in  them  all 
her  thoughts,  and  through  them  look  into  her  soul  like 
through  an  open  window.  "  She  is  pleased  to-day,"  he 
would  say  to  himself ;  and  then  he  would  be  happy.  At 


f)2  THE  LEKOi'GE  CASE. 

other  times,  he  thought,  "  She  has  met  with  some  annoyance 
to-day  ;"  and  immediately  lie  became  sad.  The  idea  of  ask- 
ing for  her  hand  many  times  presented  itself  to  his  imagin- 
ation ;  but  he  never  dared  to  entertain  it.  Knowing,  as 
he  did,  the  marchioness's  prejudices,  her  devotion  to  titles, 
her  dread  of  any  approach  to  a  misalliance,  he  was  con- 
vinced she  would  shut  his  mouth  at  the  first  word  by  a  very 
decided  "  no,"  which  she  would  maintain.  To  attempt  the 
thing  would  be  to  risk,  without  a  chance  of  success,  his 
present  happiness  which  he  thought  immense,  for  love  lives 
upon  its  own  misery.  "  Once  repulsed,"  thought  he,  "  the 
house  is  shut  against  me  ;  and  then  farewell  to  happiness, 
for  life  will  end  for  me."  Upon  the  other  hand,  the  very- 
rational  thought  occurred  to  him  that  another  might  see 
Mademoiselle  d'Arlange,  love  her,  and,  in  consequence, 
ask  for  and  obtain  her.  In  either  case,  hazarding  a  pro- 
posal, or  hesitating  still,  he  must  certainly  lose  her  in  the 
end.  By  the  commencement  of  spring,  his  mind  was  made 
up. 

One  fine  afternoon,  in  the  month  of  April,  he  bent  his 
steps  towards  the  residence  of  Madame  d'Arlange,  having 
truly  need  of  more  bravery  than  a  soldier  about  to  face  a 
battery.  He,  like  the  soldier,  whispered  to  himself,  "  Victory 
or  death  !  "  The  marchioness  who  had  gone  out  shortly 
after  breakfast  had  just  returned  in  a  terrible  rage,  and  was 
uttering  screams  like  an  eagle.  This  was  what  had  taken 
place.  She  had  some  work  done  by  a  neighboring  painter 
some  eight  or  ten  months  before  ;  and  the  workman  had 
presented  himself  a  hundred  times  to  receive  payment, 
without  avail.  Tired  of  this  proceeding,  he  had  summoned 
the  high  and  mighty  Marchioness  d'Arlange  before  the 
Justice  of  the  Peace.  This  summons  had  exasperated  the 
marchioness ;  but  she  kept  the  matter  to  herself,  having 
decided,  in  her  wisdom,  to  call  upon  the  judge  and  request 
him  to  reprimand  the  insolent  painter  who  had  dared  to 
plague  her  for  a  paltry  sum  of  money.  The  result  of  this 
fine  project  may  be  guessed.  The  judge  had  been  com- 
pelled to  eject  her  forcibly  from  his  office  ;  hence  her  fury. 

M.  Daburon  found  her  in  the  rose-colored  boudoir  half 
undressed,  her  hair  in  disorder,  red  as  a  peony,  and  sur- 
rounded by  the  debris  of  the  glass  and  chma  which  had 
fallen  under  her  hands  in  the  first  moments  of  her  passion. 
Unfortunately,  too,  Claire  and  her  governess  were  gone  out. 


THE  LE ROUGE  CASE.  93 

A  maid  was  occupied  in  inundating  the  old  lady  with  all 
sorts  of  waters,  in  the  hope  of  calming  her  nerves.  She 
received  Daburon  as  a  messenger  direct  from  Providence. 
In  a  little  more  than  half  an  hour,  she  told  her  story, 
interlarded  with  numerous  interjections  and  imprecations. 
."  Do  you  comprehend  this  judge  ?  "  cried  she.  "  He  must 
be  some  frantic  Jacobin, — some  son  of  the  furies,  who 
washed  their  hands  in  the  blood  of  their  king.  Ah  !  my 
friend,  I  read  stupor  and  indignation  in  your  glance.  He 
listened  to  the  complaint  of  that  impudent  scoundrel  whom 
I  enabled  to  live  by  employing  him  !  And  when  I  addressed 
some  severe  remonstrances  to  this  judge,  as  it  was  my  duty 
to  do,  he  had  me  turned  out !  Do  you  hear  ?  turned  out  !  " 
At  this  painful  recollection,  she  made  a  menacing  gesture 
with  her  arm.  In  her  sudden  movement,  she  struck  a 
handsome  scent  bottle  that  her  maid  held  in  her  hand. 
The  force  of  the  blow  sent  it  to  the  other  end  of  the  room, 
where  it  broke  into  pieces.  "  Stupid,  awkward  fool  !  "  cried 
the  marchioness,  venting  her  anger  upon  the  frightened 
girl.  M.  Daburon,  bewildered  at  first,  now  endeavored  to 
calm  her  exasperation.  She  did  not  allow  him  to  pronounce 
three  words.  "  Happily  you  are  here,"  she  continued  ; 
"  you  are  always  willing  to  serve  me,  I  know.  I  count  upon 
you  !  you  will  exercise  your  influence,  your  powerful  friends, 
your  credit,  to  have  this  pitiful  painter  and  this  miscreant 
of  a  judge  flung  into  some  deep  ditch,  to  teach  them  the 
respect  due  to  a  woman  of  my  rank." 

The  magistrate  did  not  permit  himself  even  to  smile  at 
this  imperative  demand.  He  had  heard  many  speeches  as 
absurd  issue  from  her  lips  without  ever  making  fun  of 
them.  Was  she  not  Claire's  grandmother  ?  for  that  alone 
he  loved  and  venerated  her.  He  blessed  her  for  her  grand- 
daughter, as  an  admirer  of  nature  blesses  heaven  for  the 
wild  flower  that  delights  him  with  its  perfume.  The  fury 
of  the  old  lady  was  terrible  ,  nor  was  it  of  short  duration. 
At  the  end  of  an  hour,  however,  she  was,  or  appeared  to 
be,  pacified.  They  replaced  her  head-dress,  repaired  the 
disorder  of  her  toilette,  and  picked  up  the  fragments  of 
broken  glass  and  china.  Vanquished  by  her  own  violence, 
the  reaction  was  immediate  and  complete.  She  fell  back 
helpless  and  exhausted  into  an  arm-chair.  This  magnifi- 
cent result  was  due  to  the  magistrate.  To  accomplish  it, 
he  had  had  to  use  all  his  ability,  to  exercise  the  most  an- 


94  THE  LE ROUGE  CASE. 

gelic  patience,  the  greatest  tact.  His  triumph  was  the 
more  meritorious,  because  he  came  completely  unprepared 
for  this  adventure,  which  interfered  with  his  intended  pro- 
posal. The  first  time  that  he  had  felt  sufficient  courage  to 
speak,  fortune  seemed  to  declare  against  him,  for  this  un- 
toward event  had  quite  upset  his  plans.  Arming  himself, 
however,  with  his  professional  eloquence,  he  talked  the  old 
lady  into  calmness.  He  was  not  so  foolish  as  to  contra- 
dict her.  On  the  contrary,  he  caressed  her  hobby.  He 
was  humorous  and  pathetic  by  turns.  He  attacked  the  au- 
thors of  the  revolution,  cursed  its  errors,  deplored  its  crimes, 
and  almost  wept  over  its  disastrous  results.  Commencing 
with  the  infamous  Marat  he  eventually  reached  the  rascal 
of  a  judge  who  had  offended  her.  He  abused  his  scanda- 
lous conduct  in  good  set  terms,  and  was  exceedingly  severe 
upon,  the  dishonest  scamp  of  a  painter.  However,  he 
thought  it  best  to  let  them  off  the  punishment  they  so 
richly  deserved  ;  and  ended  by  suggesting  that  it  would 
perhaps  be  prudent,  wise,  noble  even  to  pay. 

The  unfortunate  word  "pay "  brought  Madame  d'Ar- 
lange  to  her  feet  in  the  fiercest  attitude.  "  Pay  !  "  she 
screamed.  "  In  order  that  these  scoundrels  may  persist 
in  their  obduracy  !  Encourage  them  by  a  culpable  weak- 
ness !  Never  !  Besides  to  pay  one  must  have  money  ! 
and  I  have  none  !  " 

"Why  !  "  said  M.  Daburon,  "it  amounts  to  but  eighty- 
seven  francs  !  " 

"  And  is  that  nothing  ?  "  asked  the  marchioness ;  "  you 
talk  very  foolishly,  my  dear  sir.  It  is  easy  to  see  that  you 
have  money  ;  your  ancestors  were  people  of  no  rank  ;  and 
the  revolution  passed  a  hundred  feet  above  their  heads. 
Who  can  tell  whether  they  may  not  have  been  the  gainers 
by  it  ?  It  took  all  from  the  d'Arlanges.  What  will  they 
do  to  me,  if  I  do  not  pay  ?  " 

"  Well,  madame,  they  can  do  many  things  ;  almost  ruin 
you,  in  costs.  They  may  seize  your  furniture." 

"  Alas !  "  cried  the  old  lady,  "  the  revolution  is  not 
ended  yet.  We  shall  all  be  swallowed  up  by  it,  my  poor 
Daburon  !  Ah  !  you  are  happy,  you  who  belong  to  the 
people  !  I  see  plainly  that  I  must  pay  this  man  without 
delay,  and  it  is  frightfully  sad  for  me,  for  I  have  nothing, 
and  am  forced  to  make  such  sacrifices  for  the  sake  of  my 
grandchild  !  " 


7 'HE  LE ROUGE  CASE.  95 

This  statement  surprised  the  magistrate  so  strongly  that 
involuntarily  he  repeated  half-aloud,  "  Sacrifices  ?  " 

"  Certainly  !  "  resumed  Madame  d'Arlange.  Without 
her,  would  I  have  to  live  as  I  am  doing,  refusing  myseli 
everything  to  make  both  ends  meet  ?  Not  a  bit  of  it !  I 
would  invest  my  fortune  in  a  life  annuity.  But  I  know, 
thank  heaven,  the  duties  of  a  mother ;  and  I  economise  all 
I  can  for  my  little  Claire."  This  devotion  appeared  so  ad- 
mirable to  M.  Daburon,  that  he  could  not  utter  a  word. 
"  Ah  !  I  am  terribly  anxious  about  this  dear  child,"  con- 
tinued the  marchioness.  "  I  confess  M.  Daburon,  it 
makes  me  giddy  when  I  wonder  how  I  am  to  marry  her." 

The  magistrate  reddened  with  pleasure.  At  last  his  op- 
portunity had  arrived ;  he  must  take  advantage  of  it  at 
once.  "  It  seems  to  me,"  stammered  he,  "  that  to  find 
Mademoiselle  Claire  a  husband  ought  not  to  be  difficult." 

"  Unfortunately,  it  is.  She  is  pretty  enough,  I  admit, 
although  rather  thin,  but,  no\v-a-days,  beauty  goes  for 
nothing.  Men  are  so  mercenary  they  think  only  of  money. 
I  do  not  know  of  one  who  has  the  manhood  to,  take  a  d'Ar- 
lange with  her  bright  eyes  for  a  dowry." 

"  I  believe  that  you  exaggerate,"  remarked  M.  Daburon, 
timidly. 

"  By  no  means.  Trust  to  my  experience  which  is  far 
greater  than  yours.  Besides,  when  I  find  a  son-in-law,  he 
will  cause  me  a  thousand  troubles.  Of  this,  I  am  assured 
by  my  lawyer.  I  shall  be  compelled,  it  seems,  to  rende-r 
an  account  of  Claire's  patrimony.  As  if  ever  I  kept  ac- 
counts !  It  is  shameful !  Ah  !  if  Claire  had  any  sense  of 
filial  duty,  she  would  quietly  take  the  veil  in  some  convent. 
I  would  use  every  effort  to  pay  the  necessary  dower  ;  but 
she  has  no  affection  for  me." 

M.  Daburon  felt  that  now  was  the  time  to  speak.  He 
collected  his  courage,  as  a  good  horseman  pulls  his  horse 
together  when  going  to  leap  a  hedge,  and  in  a  voice,  which 
he  tried  to  render  firm,  he  said  :  "  Well  !  Madame,  I  be- 
lieve I  know  a  party  who  would  suit  Mademoiselle  Claire, 
— an  honest  man,  who  loves  her,  and  who  will  do  every- 
thing in  the  world  to  make  her  happy," 

"  That,"  said  Madame  d'Arlange,  "  is  always  under- 
stood." 

"  The  man  of  whom  I  speak,"  continued  the  mag- 
istrate, "  is  still  young,  and  is  rich.  He  will  be  onlv  too 


96  THE  LEROUGE  CASE. 

happy  to  receive  Mademoiselle  Claire  without  a  dowry. 
Not  only  will  he  decline  an  examination  of  your  accounts 
of  guardianship,  but  he  will  beg  you  to  invest  your  fortune 
as  you  think  fit." 

"  Really  !  Daburon,  my  friend,  you  are  by  no  means  a 
fool  !  "  exclaimed  the  old  lady. 

"  If  you  prefer  not  to  invest  your  fortune  in  a  life-an- 
nuity, your  son-in-law  will  allow  you  sufficient  to  make  up 
what  you  now  find  wanting." 

"  Ah  !  really  I  am  stifling,"  interrupted  the  marchioness. 
"  What !  you  know  such  a  man,  and  have  never  yet  men- 
tioned him  to  me !  You  ought  to  have  introduced  him 
long  ago." 

"  I  did  not  dare,  madame,  I  was  afraid  " — 

"  Quick  !  tell  me  who  is  this  admirable  son-in-law,  this 
white  black-bird  ?  where  does  he  nestle  ?  " 

The  magistrate  felt  a  strange  fluttering  of  the  heart ;  he 
was  going  to  stake  his  happiness  on  a  word.  At  length  he 
stammered,  "  It  is  I,  madame  !  " 

His  voice,  his  look,  his  gesture  were  beseeching.  He 
was  surprised  at  his  own  audacity,  frightened  at  having 
vanquished  his  timidity,  and  was  on  the  point  of  falling  at 
the  old  lady's  feet.  She,  however,  laughed  until  the  tears 
came  into  her  eyes,  then  shrugging  her  shoulders,  she 
said  ;  "  Really,  dear  Daburon  is  too  ridiculous,  he  will 
make  me  die  of  laughing!  He  is  so  amusing !"  After  which 
she  burst  out  laughing  again.  But  suddenly  she  stopped, 
in  the  very  height  of  her  merriment,  and  assumed  her 
most  dignified  air.  "  Are  you  perfectly  serious  in  all  you 
have  told  me,  M.  Daburon  !  "  she  asked. 

"  I  have  stated  the  truth,"  murmured  the  magistrate. 

"  You  are  then  very  rich  ?  " 

"  I  inherited,  madame,  from  my  mother,  about  twenty 
thousand  francs  a  year.  One  of  my  uncles,  who  died  last 
year,  bequeathed  me  over  a  hundred  thousand  crowns. 
My  father  is  worth  about  a  million.  Were  I  to  ask  him 
for  the  half  to-morrow,  he  would  give  it  to  me ;  he  would 
give  me  all  his  fortune,  if  it  were  necessary  to  my  happi- 
ness, and  be  but  too  well  contented,  should  I  leave  him 
the  administration  of  it." 

Madame  d'Arlange  signed  to  him  to  be  silent ;  and,  for 
five  good  minutes  at  least,  she  remained  plunged  in  reflec- 
ion,  her  forehead  resting  in  her  hands.  At  length  she 


THE  LE ROUGE  CASE.  97 

raised  her  head.  "  Listen,"  said  she.  "  Had  you  been  so 
bold  as  to  make  this  proposal  to  Claire's  father,  he  would 
have  called  his  servants  to  show  you  the  door.  For  the 
sake  of  our  name  I  ought  to  do  the  same  ;  but  I  cannot 
do  so.  I  am  old  and  desolate ;  I  am  poor ;  my  grand 
child's  prospects  disquiet  me  ;  that  is  my  excuse.  I  can- 
not, however,  consent  to  speak  to  Claire  of  this  horrible 
misalliance.  What  I  can  promise  you,  and  that  is  too 
much,  is  that  I  will  not  be  against  you.  Take  your  own 
measures  ;  pay  your  addresses  to  Mademoiselle  d'Arlange, 
and  try  to  persuade  her.  If  she  says  '  yes,'  of  her  own 
free  will,  I  shall  not  say  '  no.'  " 

M.  Daburon,  transported  with  happiness,  could  almost 
have  embraced  the  old  lady.  He  thought  her  the  best, 
the  most  excellent  of  women,  not  noticing  the  facility  with 
which  this  proud  spirit  had  been  brought  to  yield.  He 
was  delirious,  almost  mad. 

"  Wait !  "  said  the  old  lady  ;  "  your  cause  is  not  yet 
gained.  Your  mother,  it  is  true,  was  a  Cottevise,  and  I 
must  excuse  her  for  marrying  so  wretchedly ;  but  your 
father  is  simple  M.  Daburon.  This  name,  my  dear  friend, 
is  simply  ridiculous.  Do  you  think  it  will  be  easy  to 
make  a  Daburon  of  a  young  girl  who  for  nearly  eighteen 
years  has  been  called  d'Arlange  ?  " 

This  objection  did  not  seem  to  trouble  the  magistrate, 

"  After  all,"  continued  the  old  lady,  "  your  father 
gained  a  Cottevise,  so  you  may  win  a  d'Arlange.  On  the 
strength  of  marrying  into  noble  families,  the  Daburons 
may  perhaps  end  by  ennobling  themselves.  One  last 
piece  of  advice ;  you  believe  Claire  to  be  just  as  she 
looks, — timid,  sweet,  obedient.  Undeceive  yourself,  my 
friend.  Despite  her  innocent  air,  she  is  hardy,  fierce,  and 
obstinate  as  the  marquis  her  father,  who  was  worse  than 
an  Auvergne  mule.  Now  you  are  warned.  Our  condi- 
tions are  agreed  to,  are  they  not  ?  Let  us  say  no  more 
on  the  subject.  I  almost  wish  you  to  succeed." 

This  scene  was  so  present  to  the  magistrate's  mind, 
that  as  he  sat  at  home  in  his  arm-chair,  though  many 
months  had  passed  since  these  events,  he  still  seemed  to 
hear  the  old  lady's  voice,  and  the  word  "  success  "  still 
sounded  in  his  ears.  He  departed  in  triumph  from  the 
d'Arlange  abode,  which  he  had  entered  with  a  heart  swel- 
ling with  anxiety.  He  walked  with  his  head  erect,  his 


98  THE  LEROUGE  CASE. 

chest  dilated,  and  breathing  the  fresh  air  with  the  full 
strength  of  his  lungs.  He  was  so  happy !  The  sky  ap- 
peared to  him  more  blue,  the  sun  more  brilliant.  This 
grave  magistrate  felt  a  mad  desire  to  stop  the  passers-by, 
to  press  them  in  his  arms,  to  cry  to  them, — "  Have  you 
heard?  The  marchioness  consents!"  He  walked,  and 
the  earth  seemed  to  him  to  give  way  beneath  his  foot- 
steps ;  it  was  either  too  small  to  carry  so  much  happiness, 
or  else  he  had  become  so  light  that  he  was  going  to  fly 
away  towards  the  stars.  What  castles  in  the  air  he  built 
upon  what  Madame  d'Arlange  had  said  to  him !  He 
would  tender  his  resignation.  He  would  build  on  the 
banks  of  the  Loire,  not  far  from  Tours,  an  enchanting 
little  villa.  He  already  saw  it,  with  its  facade  to  the  ris- 
ing sun,  nestling  in  the  midst  of  flowers,  and  shaded  with 
widespreading  trees.  He  furnished  this  dwelling  in  the 
most  luxuriant  style.  He  wished  to  provide  a  marvellous 
casket,  worthy  the  pearl  he  was  about  to  possess.  For  he 
had  not  a  doubt ;  not  a  cloud  obscured  the  horizon  made 
radiant  by  his  hopes,  no  voice  at  the  bottom  of  his  heart 
raised  itself  to  cry,  "  Beware !  " 

From  that  day,  his  visits  to  the  marchioness  became 
more  frequent.  He  might  almost  be  said  to  live  at  her 
house.  While  he  preserved  his  respectful  and  reserved 
demeanour  towards  Claire,  he  strove  assiduously  to  be 
something  in  her  life.  True  love  is  ingenious.  He  learnt 
to  overcome  his  timidity,  to  speak  to  the  well-beloved  of 
his  soul,  to  encourage  her  to  converse  with  him,  to  inter- 
est her.  He  went  in  quest  of  all  the  news,  to  amuse  her. 
He  read  all  the  new  books,  and  brought  to  her  all  that 
were  fit  for  her  to  read.  Little  by  little  he  succeeded, 
thanks  to  the  most  delicate  persistence,  in  taming  this  shy 
young  girl.  He  began  to  preceive  that  her  fear  of  him 
had  almost  disappeared,  that  she  no  longer  received  him 
with  the  cold  and  haughty  air  which  had  previously  kept 
him  at  a  distance.  He  felt  that  he  was  insensibly  gaining 
her  confidence.  She  still  blushed  when  she  spoke  to  him  ; 
but  she  no  longer  hesitated  to  address  the  first  word.  She. 
even  ventured  at  times  to  ask  him  a  question.  If  she  had 
heard  a  play  well  spoken  of  and  wished  to  know  the  sub- 
ject, M.  Daburon  would  at  once  go  to  see  it,  and  commit 
a  complete  account  of  it  to  writing,  which  he  would  send 
her  through  the  post.  At  times  she  intrusted  him  with 


THE  LEROUGE  CASE.  99 

trifling  commissions,  the  execution  of  which  he  would  not 
have  exchanged  for  the  Russian  embassy.  Once  he  ven- 
tured to  send  her  a  magnificent  bouquet.  She  accepted  it 
with  an  air  of  uneasy  surprise,  but  begged  him  not  to  repeat 
the  offering.  The  tears  came  to  his  eyes  ;  he  left  her  pres- 
ence broken-hearted,  and  the  unhappiest  of  men.  "  She 
does  not  love  me,"  thought  he,  "  she  will  never  love  me." 
But,  three  days  after,  as  he  looked  very  sad,  she  begged  him 
to  procure  her  certain  flowers,  then  very  much  in  fashion, 
which  she  wished  to  place  on  her  flower-stand.  He  sent 
enough  to  fill  the  house  from  the  garret  to  the  cellar. 
"  She  will  love  me,"  he  whispered  to  himself  in  his  joy. 
These  events,  so  trifling  but  yet  so  great,  had  not  inter- 
rupted the  games  of  piquet ;  only  the  young  girl  now  ap- 
peared to  interest  herself  in  the  play,  nearly  always  taking 
the  magistrate's  side  against  the  marchioness.  She  did 
not  understand  the  game  very  well ;  but,  when  the  old 
gambler  cheated  too  openly,  she  would  notice  it,  and  say, 
laughingly, — "  She  is  robbing  you,  M.  Daburon, — she  is 
robbing  you  !  "  He  would  willingly  have  been  robbed  of 
his  entire  fortune,  to  hear  that  sweet  voice  raised  on  his 
behalf. 

It  was  summer  time.  Often  in  the  evening  she  accepted 
his  arm,  and,  while  the  marchioness  remained  at  the  win- 
dow, seated  in  her  arm-chair,  they  walked  around  the  lawn, 
feading  lightly  upon  the  paths  spread  with  gravel  sifted  so 
fine  that  the  trailing  of  her  light  dress  effaced  the  traces  of 
their  footsteps.  She  chatted  gaily  with  him,  as  with  a 
beloved  brother,  while  he  was  obliged  to  do  violence  to  his 
feelings,  to  refrain  from  imprinting  a  kiss  upon  the  little 
blonde  head,  from  which  the  light  breeze  lifted  the  curls 
and  scattered  them  like  fleecy  clouds.  At  such  moments, 
he  seemed  to  tread  an  enchanted  path  strewn  with 
flowers,  at  the  end  of  which  appeared  happiness.  When 
he  attempted  to  speak  of  his  hopes  to  the  marchioness,  she 
would  say  :  You  know  what  we  agreed  upon.  Not  a  word. 
Already  does  the  voice  of  conscience  reproach  me  for  lend- 
ing my  countenance  to  such  an  abomination.  To  think 
that  I  may  be  one  day  have  a  granddaughter  calling  her' 
self  Madame  Daburon  !  You  must  petition  the  king,  my 
friend,  to  change  your  name."  If  instead  of  intoxicating 
himself  with  dreams  of  happiness,  this  acute  observer  had 
studied  the  character  of  his  idol,  the  effect  might  have  been 


loo  THE  LEROt'C,}-.  CAM-. 

to  put  him  upon  his  guard.  In  the  meanwhile,  he  noticed 
singular  alterations  "in  her  humour.  On  certain  clays,  she 
was  gay  and  careless  as  a  child.  Then,  for  a  week,  she 
would  remain  melancholy  and  dejected.  Seeing  her  in 
this  state  the  day  following  a  ball,  to  which  her  grand- 
mother had  made  a  point  of  taking  her,  he  dared  to  ask 
her  the  reason  of  her  sadness. 

"  Oh  !  that,"  answered  she,  heaving  a  deep  sigh,  "  is  my 
secret, — a  secret  of  which  even  my  grandmother  knows 
nothing." 

M.  Daburon  looked  at  her.  He  thought  he  saw  a  tear 
between  her  long  eyelashes. 

"  One  day,"  continued  she,  "  I  may  confide  in  you  :  it 
will  perhaps  be  necessary." 

The  magistrate  was  blind  and  deaf.  "  I  also,"  answered 
he,  "  have  a  secret,  which  I  wish  to  confide  to  you  in 
return." 

When  he  retired  towards  midnight,  he  said  to  himself, 
"  To-morrow  I  will  confess  everything  to  her."  Then 
passed  a  little  more  than  fifty  days,  during  which  he  kept 
repeating  to  himself, — "  To-morrow  !  " 

It  happened  at  last  one  evening  in  the  month  of  August ; 
the  heat  all  day  had  been  overpowering ;  towards  dusk  a 
a  breeze  had  risen,  the  leaves  rustled ;  there  were  signs  of 
a  storm  in  the  atmosphere.  They  were  seated  together  at 
the  bottom  of  the  garden,  under  the  arbour,  adorned  with 
exotic  plants,  and,  through  the  branches,  they  perceived 
the  fluttering  gown  of  the  marchioness,  who  was  taking  a 
turn  after  her  dinner.  They  had  remained  a  long  time 
without  speaking,  enjoying  the  perfume  of  the  flowers,  the 
calm  beauty  of  the  evening.  M.  Daburon  ventured  to 
take  the  young  girl's  hand.  It  was  the  first  time,  and  the 
touch  of  her  fine  skin  thrilled  through  every  fibre  of  his 
frame,  and  drove  the  blood  surging  to  his  brain.  "  Made- 
moiselle," stammered  he,  "  Claire — " 

She  turned  towards  him  her  beautiful  eyes,  filled  with 
astonishment. 

"Forgive  me,"  continued  he, — "forgive  me.  I  have 
spoken  to  your  grandmother,  before  daring  to  raise  my 
eyes  to  you.  Do  you  not  understand  me  ?  A  word  from 
your  lips  will  decide  my  future  happiness  or  misery.  Claire, 
mademoiselle,  do  not  spurn  me  :  I  love  you  !  " 

While  the  magistrate  was  speaking,  Mademoiselle  d'Ar- 


THE  LEKOL'GE  CASE.  101 

lange  looked  at  him  as  though  doubtful  of  evidence  of  her 
senses  ;  but  at  the  words,  "  I  love  you  !  "  pronounced  with 
the  trembling  accents  of  the  most  devoted  passion,  she 
disengaged  her  hand  sharply,  and  uttered  a  stifled  cry. 
"  You,"  murmured  she,  "  is  this  really  you  ?  " 

M.  Daburon,  at  this  the  most  critical  moment  of  his  life 
was  powerless  to  utter  a  word.  The  presentiment  of  an 
immense  misfortune  oppressed  his  heart.  What  were  then 
his  feelings,  when  he  saw  Claire  burst  into  tears.  She  hid 
her  face  in  her  hands,  and  kept  repeating, — "  I  am  very 
unhappy,  very  unhappy  !  " 

"  You  unhappy  ?  "  exclaimed  the  magistrate  at  length, 
"  and  through  me.  Claire,  you  are  cruel  !  In  heaven's 
name,  what  have  I  done  ?  What  is  the  matter?  Speak  ! 
Anything  rather  then  this  anxiety  which  is  killing  me." 

He  knelt  before  her  on  the  gravelled  walk,  and  again 
made  an  attempt  to  take  her  hand.  She  repulsed  him  with 
an  imploring  gesture.  "  Let  me  weep,"  said  she  :  "  I  suf- 
fer so  much,  you  are  going  to  hate  me,  I  feel  it.  Who 
knows !  you  will,  perhaps,  despise  me,  and  yet  I  swear 
before  heaven  that  I  never  expected  what  you  have  just  said 
to  me,  that  I  had  not  even  a  suspicion  of  it !  " 

M.  Daburon  remained  upon  his  knees,  awaiting  his 
doom. 

"Yes,"  continued  Claire,  "you  will  think  you  have  been 
the  victim  of  a  detestable  coquetry.  I  see  it  now !  I  com- 
prehend everything  !  It  is  not  possible,  that,  without  a  pro- 
found love,  a  man  can  be  all  that  you  have  been  to  me. 
Alas  !  I  was  but  a  child.  I  gave  myself  up  to  the  great 
happiness  of  having  a  friend  !  Am  I  not  alone  in  the 
world,  and  as  if  lost  in  a  desert  ?  Silly  and  imprudent,  I 
thoughtlessly  confided  in  you,  as  in  the  best,  the  most  in- 
dulgent of  fathers." 

These  words  revealed  to  the  unfortunate  magistrate 
the  extent  of  his  error.  The  same  as  a  heavy  hammer, 
they  smashed  into  a  thousand  fragments  the  fragile 
edifice  of  his  hopes.  He  raised  himself  slowly,  and, 
iti  a  tone  of  involuntary  reproach,  he  repeated, — "Your 
father ! ' 

Mademoiselle  d'Arlange  felt  how  deeply  she  had  wound- 
ed this  man  whose  intense  love  she  dare  not  even  fathom. 
"  Yes,"  she  resumed,  "  I  love  you  as  a  father !  Seeing 
you,  usually  so  grave  and  austere,  become  for  me  so  good, 


[02  'J'UI:  LEROUGE  CASK. 

so  indulgent,  I  thanked  heaven  for  sending  me  a  protectoi 
to  replace  those  who  are  dead." 

M.  Daburon  could  not  restrain  a  sob ;  his  heart  was 
breaking. 

"One  word,"  continued  Claire, — "one  single  word, 
would  have  enlightened  me.  Why  did  you  not  pronounce 
it?  It  was  with  such  happiness  that  I  leant  on  you  as  a 
child  on  its  mother;  and  with  what  inward  joy  I  said  to 
myself,  '  I  am  sure  of  one  friend,  of  one  heart  into  which 
runs  the  overflow  of  mine  ! '  Ah  !  why  was  not  rny  confi- 
dence greater  ?  Why  did  I  withhold  my  secret  from  you  ? 
I  might  have  avoided  this  fearful  calamity.  I  ought  to 
have  told  you  long  since.  I  no  longer  belong  to  myself 
freely  and  with  happiness,  I  have  given  my  life  to  another." 

To  hover  in  the  clouds,  and  suddenly  to  fall  rudely  to 
the  earth,  such  was  M.  Daburon's  fate  ;  his  sufferings  are 
not  to  be  described.  "  Far  better  to  have  spoken," 
answered  he  ;  "yet  no.  I  owe  to  your  silence,  Claire,  six 
months  of  delicious  illusions,  six  months  of  enchanting 
dreams.  This  shall  be  m)'  share  of  life's  happiness." 

The  last  beams  of  closing  day  still  enabled  the 
magistrate  to  see  Mademoiselle  d'Arlange.  Her  beautiful 
face  had  the  whiteness  and  the  immobility  of  marble. 
Heavy  tears  rolled  silently  down  her  cheeks.  It  seemed 
to  M.  Daburon  that  he  was  beholding  the  frightful  spectacle 
of  a  weeping  statue.  "  You  love  another,"  said  he  at 
length,  "  another  !  And  your  grandmother  does  not  know 
it.  Claire,  you  can  only  have  chosen  a  man  worthy  of  your 
love.  How  is  it  the  marchioness  does  not  receive  him  ?  " 

"  There  are  certain  obstacles,"  murmured  Claire, 
"  obstacles  which  perhaps  we  may  never  be  able  to  remove  ; 
but  a  girl  like  me  can  love  but  once.  She  marries  him  she 
loves,  or  she  belongs  to  heaven  !  " 

"  Certain  obstacles !  "  said  M.  Daburon  in  a  hollow 
voice.  "  You  love  a  man,  he  knows  it,  and  he  is  stopped 
by  obstacles  ?  " 

"  I  am  poor,"  answered  Mademoiselle  d'Arlange,  "  and 
his  family  is  immensely  rich.  His  father  is  cruel,  inexora- 
ble." 

"  His  father,"  cried  the  magistrate,  with  a  bitterness  he 
did  not  dream  of  hiding,  "  his  father,  his  family,  and  that 
withholds  him  !  You  are  poor,  he  is  rich,  and  that  stops 
him  !  And  yet  he  knows  you  love  him  !  Ah  !  why  am  I 


THE  LEROL'GE  CASE.  103 

not  in  his  place?  and  why  have  I  not  the  entire  universe 
against  me  ?  What  sacrifice  can  compare  with  love  ?  such 
as  I  understand  it.  Nay,  would  it  be  a  sacrifice  ?  That 
which  appears  most  so,  is  it  not  really  an  immense  joy  ? 
To  suffer,  to  struggle,  to  wait,  to  hope  always,  to  devote 
oneself  entirely  to  another ;  that  is  my  idea  of  love." 

"  It  is  thus  I  love,"  said  Claire  with  simplicity. 

This  answer  crushed  the  magistrate.  He  could  under- 
stand it.  He  knew  that  for  him  there  was  no  hope ;  but 
he  felt  a  terrible  enjoyment  ii>  torturing  himself,  and  prov- 
ing his  misfortune  by  intense  suffering.  "  But,"  insisted 
he,  "how  have  you  known  him,  spoken  to  him  ?  Where  ? 
When  ?  Madame  d'Arlange  receives  no  one." 

"  I  ought  now  to  tell  you  everything,  sir,"  answered 
Claire  proudly.  "  I  have  known  him  for  a  long  time.  It 
was  at  the  house  of  one  of  my  grandmother's  friends, 
who  is  a  cousin  of  his, — old  Mademoiselle  Goello,  that  I 
saw  him  for  the  first  time.  There  we  spoke  to  each  other  ; 
there  we  meet  each  other  now." 

"  Ah  !  "  exclaimed  M.  Daburon,  whose  eyes  were  suddenly 
opened,  "  I  remember  now.  A  few  days  before  your  visit 
to  Mademoiselle  Goello,  you  are  gayer  than  usual ;  and, 
when  you  return,  you  are  often  sad." 

"  That  is  because  I  see  how  much  he  is  pained  by  the 
obstacles  he  cannot  overcome." 

"  Is  his  family,  then,  so  illustrious,"  asked  the  magistrate 
harshly,  "  that  it  disdains  alliance  with  yours  ? " 

"  I  should  have  told  you  everything,  without  waiting  to 
be  questioned,  sir,"  answered  Mademoiselle  d'Arlange, 
"  even  his  name.  He  is  called  Albert  de  Commarin." 

The  marchioness  at  this  moment,  thinking  she  had 
walked  enough,  was  preparing  to  return  to  her  rose-coloured 
boudoir.  She  therefore  approached  the  arbour,  and  ex- 
claimed in  her  loud  voice  :  "  Worthy  magistrate,  piquet 
awaits  you." 

Mechanically  the  magistrate  arose,  stammering,  "  I  am 
coming." 

Claire  held  him  back.  "  I  have  not  asked  you  to  keep 
my  secret,  sir,"  said  she. 

"O  mademoiselle  !  "  said  M.  Daburon,  wounded  by  thi? 
appearance  of  doubt. 

"  I  know,"  resumed  Claire,  "  that  1  can  count  upon  you  ; 
but,  come  what  will,  my  tranquillity  is  gone."  M.  Daburon 


104  THE  LEROUUI-.   CASE. 

looked  at  her  with  an  air  of  surprise  ;  his  eyes  questioned 
her.  "  It, is  certain,"  continued  she,  "  that  what  I,  a  young 
and  inexperienced  girl,  have  failed  to  see,  has  not  passed 
unnoticed  by  my  grandmother.  That  she  has  continued 
to  receive  you  is  a  tacit  encouragement  of  your  addresses  ; 
which  I  consider,  permit  me  to  say,  as  very  honourable  to 
myself." 

"  I  have  already  mentioned,  mademoiselle,"  replied  the 
magistrate,  "  that  the  marchioness  has  deigned  to  authorise 
my  hopes."  And  briefly  4ie  related  his  interview  with 
Madame  d'Arlange,  having  the  delicacy,  however,  to  omit 
absolutely  the  question  of  money,  which  had  so  strongly 
influenced  the  old  lady. 

"  I  see  very  plainly  what  effect  this  will  have  on  my 
peace,"  said  Claire  sadly.  "  When  my  grandmother  learns 
that  I  have  not  received  your  homage,  she  will  be  very 
angry." 

"  You  misjudge  me,  mademoiselle,"  interrupted  M. 
Daburon.  "  I  have  nothing  to  say  to  the  marchioness.  I 
will  retire,  and  all  will  be  said.  No  doubt  she  will  think 
that  I  have  altered  my  mind  !  " 

"  Oh  !  you  are  good  and  generous,  I  know !  " 

"  I  will  go  away,"  pursued  M.  Daburon ;  "  and  soon  you 
will  have  forgotten  even  the  name  of  the  unfortunate 
whose  life's  hopes  have  just  been  shattered." 

"  You  do  not  mean  what  you  say,"  said  the  young  girl 
quickly. 

"  Well,  no.  I  cherish  this  last  illusion,  that  later  on  you 
will  remember  me  with  pleasure.  Sometimes  you  will  say, 
'  He  loved  me,'  I  wish  all  the  same  to  remain  your  friend, 
yes,  your  most  devoted  friend." 

Claire,  in  her  turn,  clasped  M.  Daburon's  hands,  and 
said  with  great  emotion  : — "  Yes,  you  are  right,  you  must 
remain  my  friend.  Let  us  forget  what  has  happened, 
what  you  have  said  to-night,  and  remain  to  me,  as  in  the 
past,  the  best,  the  most  indulgent  of  brothers." 

Darkness  had  come,  and  she  could  not  see  him  ;  but 
she  knew  he  was  weeping,  for  he  was  slow  to  answer.  "  Is 
it  possible,"  murmured  he  at  length,  "  what  you  ask  of 
me  ?  What !  is  it  you  who  talk  to  me  of  forgetting  ?  Do 
you  feel  the  power  to  forget  ?  Do  you  not  see  that  I 
love  yon  a  thousand  times  more  than  you  love — "  He 
stopped,  unable  to  pronounce  the  name  of  Commarin ; 


/'//A'   LI:KOL\,l:    t  •./.,/..  105 

and  then,  with  an  effort  he  added  :  "  And  I  shall  love  you 
always." 

They  had  left  the  arbour,  and  were  now  standing  not 
far  from  the  steps  leading  to  the  house.  "  And  now, 
mademoiselle,"  resumed  M.  Daburon,  "  permit  me  to  say, 
adieu  !  You  will  see  me  again  but  seldom.  I  shall  only 
return  often  enough  to  avoid  the  appearance  of  a  rupture." 
His  voice  trembled,  so  that  it  was  with  difficulty  he  made 
it  distinct. 

"  Whatever  may  happen,"  he  added,  "  remember  that 
there  is  one  unfortunate  being  in  the  world  who  belongs 
to  you  absolutely.  If  ever  you  have  need  of  a  friend's 
devotion,  come  to  me,  come  to  your  friend.  Now  it  is 
over  ...  I  have  courage.  Claire,  mademoiselle,  for  the 
last  time,  adieu  !  " 

She  was  but  little  less  moved  than  he  was.  Instinct- 
ively she  approached  him,  and  for  the  first  and  last  time 
he  touched  lightly  with  his  cold  lips  the  forehead  of  her  he 
loved  so  well.  They  mounted  the  steps,  she  leaning  on 
his  arm,  and  entered  the  rose-coloured  boudoir  where  the 
marchioness  was  seated,  impatiently  shuffling  the  cards, 
while  awaiting  her  victim.  "  Now,  then,  incorruptible 
magistrate,"  cried  she. 

But  M.  Daburon  felt  sick  at  heart.  He  could  not  have 
held  the  cards.  He  stammered  some  absurd  excuses, 
spoke  of  pressing  affairs,  of  duties  to  be  attended  to,  of 
feeling  suddenly  unwell,  and  went  out,  clinging  to  the 
walls.  His  departure  made  the  old  card-player  highly  in- 
dignant. She  turned  to  her  grand-daughter,  who  had  gone 
to  hide  her  confusion  away  from  the  candles  of  the  card 
table,  and  asked,  "  What  .is  the  matter  with  Daburon  this 
evening  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know,  madame,"  stammered  Claire. 

"It  appears  to  me,"  continued  the  marchioness,  "that 
the  little  magistrate  permits  himself  to  take  singular  liber- 
ties. He  must  be  reminded  of  his  proper  place,  or  he  will 
end  by  believing  himself  our  equal." 

Claire  tried  to  explain  the  magistrate's  conduct :  "  He 
has  been  complaining  all  the  evening,  grandmamma;  per- 
haps he  is  unwell.'' 

"  And  what  if  he  is  ?  "  exclaimed  the  old  lady.  "  Is  it 
not  his  duty  to  exercise  some  self-denial,  in  return  for  the 
honour  of  our  company  ?  I  think  I  have  already  related 


io6  THE  LEKOL'GE  CASE. 

to  you  the  story  of  your  granduncle,  the  Duke  de  St. 
Huruge,  who,  having  been  chosen  to  join  the  king's  card 
party  on  their  return  from  the  chase,  played  all  through 
the  evening  and  lost  with  the  best  grace  in  the  world  two 
hundred  and  twenty  pistoles.  All  the  assembly  remarked 
his  gaiety  and  his  good  humour.  On  the  following  day 
only  it  was  learned,  that,  during  the  hunt,  he  had  fallen 
from  his  horse,  and  had  sat  at  his  majesty's  card  table 
with  a  broken  rib.  Nobody  made  any  remark,  so  perfectly 
natural  did  this  act  of  ordinary  politeness  appear  in  those 
days.  This  little  Daburon,  if  he  is  unwell,  would  have 
given  proof  of  his  breeding  by  saying  nothing  about  it, 
and  remaining  for  my  piquet.  But  he  is  as  well  as  I  am. 
Who  can  tell  what  games  he  has  gone  to  play  elsewhere  ! " 


VII. 

M.  DABURON  did  not  return  home  on  leaving  Mademoi- 
selle d' Arlange.  All  through  the  night  he  wandered  about 
at  random,  seeking  to  cool  his  heated  brow,  and  to  allay 
his  excessive  weariness.  "  Fool  that  I  was  !  "  said  he  to 
himself,  "  thousand  times  fool  to  have  hoped,  to  have  be- 
lieved, that  she  would  ever  love  me.  Madman  !  how  could 
I  have  dared  to  dream  of  possessing  so  much  grace,  noble- 
ness, and  beauty  !  How  charming  she  was  this  evening, 
when  her  face  was  bathed  in  tears  !  Could  anything  be 
more  angelic  ?  What  a  sublime  expression  her  eyes  had 
in  speaking  of  him  !  How  she  must  love  him  !  And  I  ? 
She  loves  me  as  a  father,  she  told  me  so, — as  a  father ! 
And  could  it  be  otherwise  ?  Is  it  not  justice  ?  Could 
she  see  a  lover  in  a  sombre  and  severe-looking  magistrate, 
always  as  sad  as  his  black  coat  ?  Was  it  not  a  crime  to 
dream  of  uniting  that  virginal  simplicity  to  my  detestable 
knowledge  of  the  world  ?  For  her,  the  future  is  yet  the 
land  of  smiling  chimeras  :  and  long  since  experience  has 
dissipated  all  my  illusions.  She  is  as  young  as  innocence, 
and  I  am  as  old  as  vice." 

The  unfortunate  magistrate  felt  thoroughly  ashamed  of 
himself.  He  understood  Claire,  and  excused  her.  He 
reproached  himself  for  having  shown  her  how  he  suf- 
fered ;  for  having  cast  a  shadow  upon  her  life.  He  could 
not  forgive  himself  for  having  spoken  of  his  love.  Ought 


THE  LE ROUGE  CASE.  107 

he  not  to  have  foreseen  what  had  happened  ? — that  she 
would  refuse  him,  that  he  would  thus  deprive  himself  of 
the  happiness  of  seeing  her,  of  hearing  her,  and  of  silently 
adoring  her  ?  "A  young  and  romantic  girl,"  pursued  he, 
"  must  have  a  lover  she  can  dream  of, — whom  she  can  ca- 
ress in  imagination,  as  an  ideal,  gratifying  herself  by  see- 
ing in  him  every  great  and  brilliant  quality,  imagining  him 
full  of  nobleness,  of  bravery,  of  heroism.  What  would  she 
see,  if,  in  my  absence,  she  dreamed  of  me  ?  Her  imagina- 
tion would  present  me  dressed  in  a  funeral  robe,  in  the  depth 
of  a  gloomy  dungeon,  engaged  with  some  vile  criminal. 
Is  it  not  my  trade  to  descend  into  all  moral  sinks,  to  stir 
up  the  foulness  of  crime  ?  Am  I  not  compelled  to  wash 
in  secrecy  and  darkness  the  dirty  linen  of  the  most  corrupt 
members  of  society  ?  Ah !  some  professions  are  fatal. 
Ought  not  the  magistrate,  like  the  priest,  to  condemn  him- 
self to  solitude  and  celibacy  ?  Both  know  all,  they  hear 
all,  their  costumes  are  nearly  the  same ;  but,  while  the 
priest  carries  consolation  in  the  folds  of  his  black*  robe, 
the  magistrate  conveys  terror.  One  is  mercy,  the  other 
chastisement.  Such  are  the  images  a  thought  of  me  would 
awaken  ;  while  the  other, — the  other — " 

The  wretched  man  continued  his  headlong  course  along 
the  deserted  quays.  He  went  with  his  head  bare,  his  eyes 
haggard.  To  breathe  more  freely,  he  had  torn  off  his 
cravat  and  thrown  it  to  the  winds.  Sometimes,  uncon- 
sciously, he  crossed  the  path  of  a  solitary  wayfarer,  who 
would  pause,  touched  with  pity,  and  turn  to  watch  the  re- 
treating figure  of  the  unfortunate  wretch  he  thought  deprived 
of  reason.  In  a  by-road,  near  Crenelle,  some  police  officers 
stopped  him,  and  tried  to  question  him.  He  mechanically 
tendered  them  his  card.  They  read  it,  and  permitted  him 
to  pass,  convinced  that  he  was  drunk.  Anger, — a  furious 
anger,  began  to  replace  his  first  feeling  of  resignation.  In 
his  heart  arose  a  hate,  stronger  and  more  violent  than  even 
his  love  for  Claire.  That  other,  that  preferred  one,  that 
haughty  viscount,  who  could  not  overcome  those  paltry 
obstacles,  oh,  that  he  had  him  there,  under  his  knee  !  At 
that  moment,  this  noble  and  proud  man,  this  severe  and 
grave  magistrate  experienced  an  irresistible  longing  for 
vengeance.  He  began  to  understand  the  hate  that  arms 
itself  with  a  knife,  and  lays  in  ambush  in  out-of-the-way 
places  ;  which  strikes  in  the  dark,  whether  in  front  or 


loS  THE  LE ROUGE  CASE. 

from  behind  matters  little,  but  which  strikes,  which  kills, 
whose  vengeance  blood  alone  can  satisfy.  At  that  very 
hour  he  was  supposed  to  be  occupied  with  an  inquiry  into 
the  case  of  an  unfortunate,  accused  of  having  stabbed 
one  of  her  wretched  companions.  She  was  jealous  of  the 
woman,  who  had  tried  to  take  her  lover  from  her.  He 
was  a  soldier,  coarse  in  manners,  and  always  drunk.  M. 
Daburon  felt  himself  seized  with  pity  for  this  miserable 
creature,  whom  he  had  commenced  to  examine  the  day 
before.  She  was  very  ugly,  in  fact  truly  repulsive  ;  but 
the  expression  of  the  eyes,  when  speaking  of  her  soldier, 
returned  to  the  magistrate's  memory.  "  She  loves  him 
sincerely,"  thought  he.  "  If  each  one  of  the  jurors  had 
suffered  what  I  am  suffering  now,  she  would  be  acquitted. 
But  how  many  men  in  this  world  have  loved  passionately  ? 
Perhaps  not  one  in  twenty."  He  resolved  to  recommend 
this  girl  to  the  indulgence  of  the  tribunal,  and  to  extenuate 
as  much  as  possible  her  guilt.  For  he  himself  had  just 
determined  upon  the  commission  of  a  crime.  He  was  re- 
solved to  kill  Albert  de  Commarin. 

During  the  rest  of  the  night  he  became  all  the  more  de- 
termined in  this  resolution,  demonstrating  to  himself  by  a 
thousand  mad  reasons,  which  he  found  solid  and  inscruta- 
ble, the  necessity  for  and  the  justifiableness  of  this  venge- 
ance. At  seven  o'clock  in  the  morning,  he  found  himself 
in  an  avenue  of  the  Bois  de  Boulogne,  not  far  from  the 
lake.  He  made  at  once  for  the  Porte  Maillot,  procured  a 
cab,  and  was  driven  to  his  house.  The  delirium  of  the 
night  continued,  but  without  suffering.  He  was  conscious 
of  no  fatigue.  Calm  and  cool,  he  acted  under  the  power 
of  an  hallucination-,  almost  like  a  somnambulist.  He  re- 
flected and  reasoned,  but  without  his  reason.  As  soon  as 
he  arrived  home  he  dressed  himself  with  care,  as  was  his 
custom  formerly  when  visiting  the  Marchioness  d'Arlange, 
and  went  out.  He  first  called  at  an  armourer's  and  bought 
a  small  revolver,  which  he  caused  to  be  carefully  loaded 
under  his  own  eyes,  and  put  it  into  his  pocket.  He  then 
called  on  the  different  persons  he  supposed  capable  of  in- 
forming him  to  what  club  the  viscount  belonged.  No  one 
noticed  the  strange  state  of  his  mind,  so  natural  were  his 
manners  and  conversations.  It  was  not  until  the  after- 
noon that  a  young  friend  of  his  gave  him  the  name  of 
Albert  de  Commarin's  club,  and  offered  to  conduct  him 


THE  LEKOUGE  CASE.  109 

thither,  as  he  too  was  a  member.  M.  Daburon  accepted 
warmly,  and  accompanied  his  friend.  While  passing  along, 
he  grasped  with  frenzy  the  handle  of  the  revolver  which  he 
kept  concealed,  thinking  only  of  the  murder  he  was  deter- 
mined to  commit,  and  the  means  of  insuring  the  accuracy 
of  his  aim.  "This  will  make  a  terrible  scandal,"  thought 
he,  "  above  all  if  I  do  not  succeed  in  blowing  my  own  brains 
out.  I  shall  be  arrested,  thrown  into  prison,  and  placed  up- 
on my  trial  at  the  assizes.  My  name  will  be  dishonored  ! 
Bah  !  what  does  that  signify  ?  Claire  does  not  love  me,  so 
what  care  I  for  all  the  rest  ?  My  father  no  doubt  will  die 
of  grief,  but  I  must  have  my  revenge  !  " 

On  arriving  at  the  club,  his  friend  pointed  out  a  very 
dark  young  man,  with  a  haughty  air,  or  what  appeared  so 
to  him,  who,  seated  at  a  table,  was  reading  a  review.  It 
was  the  viscount.  M.  Daburon  walked  up  to  him  without 
drawing  his  revolver.  But  when  within  two  paces,  his 
heart  failed  him  ;  he  turned  suddenly  and  fled,  leaving  his 
friend  astonished  at  a  scene,  to  him,  utterly  inexplicable. 
Only  once  again  will  Albert  de  Commarin  be  as  near  death. 
On  reaching  the  street,  it  seemed  to  M.  Uaburon  that  the 
ground  was  receding  from  beneath  him,  that  everything 
was  turning  around  him.  He  tried  to  cry  out,  but  could 
not  utter  a  sound  ;  he  struck  at  the  air  with  his  hands, 
reeled  for  an  instant, '  and  then  fell  all  of  a  heap  on  the 
pavement.  The  passers-by  ran  and  assisted  the  police  to 
raise  him.  In  one  of  his  pockets  they  found  his  address, 
and  carried  him  home. 

When  he  recovered  his  senses,  he  was  in  his  bed,  at  the 
foot  of  which  he  perceived  his  father.  "  What  has  hap- 
pened ?  "  he  asked.  With  much  caution  they  told  him, 
that  for  si3i  weeks  he  had  wavered  between  life  and  death, 
The  doctors  had  declared  his  life  saved  ;  and,  now  that 
reason  was  restored,  all  would  go  well.  Five  minutes' 
conversation  exhausted  him*.  He  shut  his  eyes,  and  tried 
to  collect  his  ideas  ;  but  they  whirled  hither  and  thither 
wildly,  as  autumn  leaves  in  the  wind.  The  past  seemed 
shrouded  in  a  dark  mist ;  yet,  in  the  midst  of  the  darkness 
and  confusion,  all  that  concerned  Mademoiselle  d'Arlange 
stood  out  clear  and  luminous.  All  his  actions  from  the 
moment  when  he  embraced  Claire  appeared  before  him. 
He  shuddered,  and  his  hair  was  in  a  moment  soaking  with 
perspiration.  He  had  almost  become  an  assassin.  The  proof 


no  THE  LEROUGE  CASE. 

that  he  was  restored  to  full  possession  of  his  faculties  was, 
that  a  question  of  criminal  law  crossed  his  brain.  "  The 
crime  committed,"  said  he  to  himself,  "  should  I  have  been 
condemned  ?  Yes.  Was  I  responsible  ?  No.  Is  crime 
merely  the  result  of  mental  alienation  ?  Was  I  mad  ?  Or 
was  I  in  that  peculiar  state  of  mind  which  usually  precedes 
an  illegal  attempt  ?  Who  can  say  ?  Why  have  not  all 
judges  passed  through  an  incomprehensible  crisis  such  as 
mine  ?  But  who  would  believe  me,  were  I  to  recount  my  ex- 
perience ?  " 

Some  days  later,  he  was  sufficiently  recovered  to  tell 
his  father  all.  The  old  gentleman  shrugged  his  shoulders, 
and  assured  him  it  was  but  a  reminiscence  of  his  delirium. 
The  good  old  man  was  moved  at  the  story  of  his  son's 
luckless  wooing,  without  seeing  therein,  however,  an 
irreparable  misfortune.  He  advised  him  to  think  of  some- 
thing else,  placed  at  his  disposal  his  entire  fortune,  and 
recommended  him  to  marry  a  stout  Poitevine  heiress,  very 
gay  and  healthy,  who  would  bear  him  some  fine  children. 
Then,  as  his  estate  was  suffering  by  his  absence,  he  returned 
home.  Two  months  later,  the  investigating  magistrate  had 
resumed  his  ordinary  avocations.  But  try  as  he  would,  he 
only  went  through  his  duties  like  a  body  without  a  soul. 
He  felt  that  something  was  broken.  Once  he  ventured  to 
pa}'  a  visit  to  his  old  friend,  the  marchioness.  On  seeing 
him,  she  uttered  a  cry  of  terror.  She  took  him  for  a 
spectre,  so  much  was  he  changed  in  appearance.  As  she 
dreaded  dismal  faces,  she  ever  after  shut  her  door  to  him. 
Claire  was  ill  for  a  'week  after  seeing  him.  "  How  he  loved 
me."  thought  she,  "  It  has  almost  killed  him  !  Can  Albert 
love  me  as  much  ?  "  She  did  not  dare  to  answer  her -self. 
She  felt  a  desire  to  console  him,  to  speak  to  him,  -attempt 
something  ;  but  he  came  no  more. 

M.  Daburon  was  not,  however,  a  man  to  give  way  with- 
out a  struggle.  He  tried,  as  his  father  advised  him,  to 
distract  his  thoughts.  He  sought  for  pleasure,  and  found 
disgust,  but  not  forgetfulness.  Often  he  went  so  far  as  the 
threshold  of  debauchery ;  but  the  pure  figure  of  Claire, 
dressed  in  white  garments,  always  barred  the  doors  against 
him.  Then  he  took  refuge  in  work,  as  in  a  sanctuary  ;  con- 
demned himself  to  the  most  incessant  labour,  and  forbade 
himself  to  think  of  Claire,  as  the  consumptive  forbids  him- 
self to  meditate  upon  his  malady.  His  eagerness,  his  fever- 


THE  LE ROUGE  CASE.  in 

ish  activity,  earned  him  the  reputation  of  an  ambitious  man, 
who  would  go  far ;  but  he  cared  for  nothing  in  the  world. 
At  length,  he  found,  not  rest,  but  that  painless  benumbing 
which  commonly  follows  a  great  catastrophe.  The 
convalescence  of  oblivion  was  commencing. 

These  were  the  events,  recalled  to  M.  Daburon's  mind 
when  old  Tabaret  pronounced  the  name  of  Commarin. 
He  believed  them  buried  under  the  ashes  of  time  ;  and  be- 
hold they  reappeared,  just  the  same  as  those  characters 
traced  in  sympathetic  ink  when  held  before  a  fire.  In  an 
instant  they  unrolled  themselves  before  his  memory,  with 
the  instantaneousness  of  a  dream  annihilating  time  and 
space.  During  some  minutes,  he  assisted  at  the  represen- 
tation of  his  own  life.  At  once  actor  and  spectator,  he 
was  there  seated  in  his  arm-chair,  and  at  the  same  time  he 
appeared  on  the  stage.  He  acted,  and  he  judged  him- 
self. His  first  thought,  it  must  be  confessed,  was  one  of 
hate,  followed  by  a  detestable  feeling  of  satisfaction. 
Chance  had,  so  to  say,  delivered  into  his  hands  this  man  pre  • 
f erred  by  Claire,  this  man,  now  no  longer  a  haughty, 
nobleman,  illustrious  by  his  fortune  and  his  ancestors,  but 
the  illegitimate  offspring  of  a  courtesan.  To  retain  a 
stolen  name,  he  had  committed  a  most  cowardly  assassi- 
nation. And  he,  the  magistrate,  was  about  to  experience 
the  infinite  gratification  of  striking  his  enemy  with  the 
sword  of  justice.  But  this  was  only  a  passing  thought.  The 
man's  upright  conscience  revolted  against  it,  and  made  its 
powerful  voice  heard.  "  Is  anything,"  it  cried,  "  more 
monstrous  than  the  association  of  these  two  ideas, — hatred 
and  justice  ?  Can  a  magistrate,  without  despising  himself 
more  than  he  despises  the  vile  beings  he  condemns,  recollect 
that  a  criminal,  whose  fate  is  in  his  hands,  has  been  his 
enemy?  Has  an  investigating  magistrate  the  right  to  make 
use  of  his  exceptional  powers  in  dealing  with  a  prisoner, 
so  long  as  he  harbours  the  least  resentment  against  him  ?  " 
M.  Daburon  repeated  to  himself  what  he  had  so  fre- 
quently thought  during  the  year,  when  commencing  a 
fresh  investigation  :  "  And  I  also,  I  almost  stained  myself 
with  a  vile  murder  ! "  And  now  it  was  his  duty  to  cause 
to  be  arrested,  to  interrogate,  and  hand  over  to  the  as- 
sizes the  man  he  had  once  resolved  to  kill.  All  the  world, 
it  is  true,  ignored  this  crime  of  thought  and  intention  ; 
but  could  he  himself  forget  it  ?  Was  not  this,  of  all 


II-  THE  I.EKOCGE  CASE. 

others,  a  case  in  which  he  should  decline  to  be  mixed 
up  ?  Ought  he  not  to  withdraw,  and  wash  his  hands 
of  the  blood  that  had  been  shed,  leaving  to  another  the 
task  of  avenging  him  in  the  name  of  society  ?  "  No,"  said 
he,  "  it  would  be  a  cowardice  unworthy  of  me."  A  project 
of  mad  generosity  occurred  to  the  bewildered  man.  "  If  I 
save  him,"  murmured  he,  "  if  for  Claire's  sake  I  leave  him 
his  honour  and  his  life.  But  how  can  I  save  him  ?  To  do 
so  I  shall  be  obliged  to  suppress  old  Tabaret's  discoveries, 
and  make  an  accomplice  of  him  by  ensuring  his  silence. 
We  shall  have  to  follow  a  wrong  track,  join  Gevrol  in 
running  after  some  imaginary  murderer.  Is  this  practi- 
cable ?  Besides,  to  spare  Albert  is  to  defame  Noel ;  it  is  to 
assure  impunity  to  the  most  odious  of  crimes.  In  short,  it 
is  still  sacrificing  justice  to  my  feelings." 

The  magistrate  suffered  greatly.  How  choose  a  path 
in  the  midst  of  so  many  perplexities  !  Impelled  by  different 
interests,  he  wavered,  undecided  between  the  most  op- 
posite decisions,  his  mind  oscillating  from  one  extreme  to 
the  other.  What  could  he  do?  His  reason  after  this  new 
and  unforeseen  shock  vainly  sought  to  regain  its  equilib- 
rium. "  Resign  ?  "  said  he  to  himself.  "  Where,  then, 
would  be  my  courage  ?  Ought  I  not  rather  to  remain  the 
representative  of  the  law,  incapable  of  emotion,  insensible 
to  prejudice  ?  am  I  so  weak  that,  in  assuming  my  office,  I 
am  unable  to  divest  myself  of  my  personality  ?  Can  I  not, 
for  the  present,  make  abstraction  of  the  past  ?  My  duty  is 
to  pursue  this  investigation.  Claire  herself  would  desire 
me  to  act  thus.  Would  she  wed  a  man  suspected  of  a 
crime  ?  Never.  If  he  is  innocent,  he  will  be  saved ;  if 
guilty,  let  him  perish  !  "  This  was  very  sound  reasoning  ; 
but,  at  the  bottom  of  his  heart,  a  thousand  disquietudes 
darted  their  thorns.  He  wanted  to  reassure  himself. 
"  Do  I  still  hate  this  young  man  ? "  he  continued.  "  No, 
certainly.  If  Claire  has  preferred  him  to  me,  it  is  to  Claire 
and  not  to  him  I  owe  my  suffering.  My  rage  was  no  more 
than  a  passing  fit  of  delirium.  I  will  prove  ;t,  by  letting 
him  find  me  as  much  a  counsellor  as  a  magistrate.  If 
he  is  not  guilty,  he  shall  make  use  of  all  the  means  in  my 
power  to  establish  his  innocence.  Yes,  I  am  worthy  to  be 
his  judge.  Heaven,  who  reads  all  my  thoughts,  sees  that 
I  love  Claire  enough  to  desire  with  all  my  heart  the  inno- 
cence of  her  lover."  Onlv  then  did  M.  Daburon  seem  to 


THE  LE ROUGE  CASE.  113 

be  vaguely  aware  of  the  lapse  of  time.  It  was  nearly  three 
o'clock  in  the  morning.  "  Goodness  !  "  cried  he  ;  "  why, 
old  Tabaret  is  waiting  for  me.  I  shall  probably  find  him 
asleep." 

But  M.  Tabaret  was  not  asleep.  He  had  noticed  the 
the  passage  of  time  no  more  than  the  magistrate.  Ten 
minutes  had  sufficed  him  to  take  an  inventory  of  the  con- 
tents of  M.  Daburon's  study,  which  was  large,  and  hand- 
somely furnished  in  accordance  with  his  position  and  for- 
tune. Taking  up  a  lamp,  he  first  admired  six  very  valu- 
able pictures,  which  ornamented  the  walls ;  he  then  ex- 
amined with  considerable  curiosity  some  rare  bronzes 
placed  about  the  room,  and  bestowed  on  the  bookcase  the 
glance  of  a  connoisseur.  After  which,  taking  an  evening 
paper  from  the  table,  he  approached  the  hearth,  and  seated 
himself  in  a  vast  armchair.  He  had  not  read  a  third  of  the 
leading  article,  which,  like  all  leading  articles  of  the  time, 
was  exclusively  occupied  with  the  Roman  question,  when, 
letting  the  paper  drop  from  his  hands,  he  became  absorbed 
in  meditation.  The  fixed  idea,  stronger  than  one's  will,  and 
more  interesting  to  him  than  politics,  brought  him  forcibly 
back  to  La  Jonchere,  where  lay  the  body  Widow  Lerouge. 
Like  the  child  who  again  and  again  builds  up  and  demol- 
ishes his  house  of  cards,  he  arranged  and  entangled  alter- 
nately his  chain  of  inductions  and  arguments.  In  his  own 
mind  there  was  certainly  no  longer  a  doubt  as  regards  this 
sad  affair,  and  it  seemed  to  him  that  M.  Daburon  shared 
his  opinions.  But  yet,  what  difficulties  there  still  remained 
to  encounter !  There  exists  between  the  investigating 
magistrate  and  the  acused  a  supreme  tribunal,  an  admir- 
able institution  which  is  a  guarantee  for  all,  a  powerful 
moderator,  the  jury.  And  the  jury,  thank  heaven  !  do 
not  content  themselves  with  a  moral  conviction.  The 
strongest  probabilities  cannot  induce  them  to  give  an  affirm- 
ative verdict.  The  accusation  must  then  come  before 
the  jury,  armed  at  all  points,  with  abundant  proofs.  A 
task  often  tedious  to  the  investigating  magistrate,  and 
bristling  with  difficulties,  is  the  arrangement  and  conden- 
sation of  this  evidence,  particularly  when  the  accused  is  a 
cool  hand,  certain  of  having  left  no  traces  of  his  guilt. 
Even  when  presumptive  evidence  points  clearly  to  the 
criminal,  and  common  sense  recognises  him,  justice  is  at 
8 


H4  THE  LE ROUGE  CASE. 

times  compelled  to  acknowledge  her  defeat,  for  lack  of  what 
the  jury  consider  sufficient  proof  of  guilt.  Thus,  unhappily, 
many  crimes  escape  punishment.  An  old  advocate-gen' 
eral  said  one  day  that  he  knew  as  many  as  three  assassins, 
living  rich,  happy,  and  respected,  who  would  probably  end 
by  dying  in  their  beds,  surrounded  by  their  families,  and 
being  followed  to  the  grave  with  lamentations,  and 
praised  for  their  virtues  in  their  epitaphs. 

At  the  idea  that  a  murderer  might  escape  the  penalty  of 
his  crime,  and  steal  away  from  the  assize  court,  old  Taba- 
ret's  blood  fairly  boiled  in  his  veins,  as  at  the  recollection 
of  some  deadly  insult.  Such  a  monstrous  event,  in  his 
opinion,  could  only  proceed  from  the  incapacity  of  those 
charged  with  the  preliminary  inquiry,  the  clumsiness  of 
the  police,  or  the  stupidity  of  the  investigating  magistrate. 
"  It  is  not  I,"  he  muttered,  with  the  satisfied  vanity  of 
success,  "  who  would  ever  let  my  prey  escape.  No  crime 
can  be  committed,  of  which  the  author  cannot  be  found, 
unless,  indeed,  he  happens  to  be  a  madman,  whose  motive 
it  would  be  difficult  to  understand.  I  would  pass  my  life 
in  pursuit  of  a  criminal,  before  avowing  myself  vanquished, 
as  Gevrol  has  done  so  many  times."  Assisted  by  chance, 
he  had  again  succeeded,  so  he  kept  repeating  to  himself, 
but  what  proofs  could  he  furnish  to  the  accusation,  to  tha'. 
confounded  jury,  so  difficult  to  convince,  so  precise  and 
so  cowardly  ?  What  could  he  imagine  to  force  so  cunning 
a  culprit  to  betray  himself  ?  What  trap  could  he  prepare  ? 
To  what  new  and  infallible  stratagem  could  he  have  re- 
course ?  The  amateur  detective  exhausted  himself  in  sub- 
tle but  impracticable  combinations,  always  stopped  by  that 
exacting  jury,  so  obnoxious  to  the  agents  of  the  Rue  de 
Jerusalem.  He  was  so  deeply  absorbed  in  his  thoughts 
that  he  did  not  hear  the  door  open,  and  was  utterly  uncon* 
scious  of  the  magistrate's  presence. 

M.  Daburon's  voice  aroused  him  from  his  reverie. 
"  You  will  excuse  me,  M.  Tabaret,  for  having  left  you  so 
long  alone." 

The  old  fellow  rose  and  bowed  respectfully.  "  By  my 
faith,  sir,"  replied  he,  "  I  have  not  had  the  leisure  to 
perceive  my  solitude." 

M.  Daburon  crossed  the  room,  and  seated  himself,  fac- 
ing his  agent  before  a  small  table  encumbered  with  papers 
and  documents  relating  to  the  crime.  He  appeared  very 


THE  LEROUGE  CASE.  115 

much  fatigued.  "  I  have  reflected  a  good  deal,"  he  com- 
menced, "  about  this  affair — " 

"  And  I,"  interrupted  old  Tabaret,  "  was  just  asking 
myself  what  was  likely  to  be  the  attitude  assumed  by  the 
viscount  at  the  moment  of  his  arrest.  Nothing  is  more 
important,  according  to  my  idea,  than  his  manner  of  con- 
ducting himself  then.  Will  he  fly  into  a  passion  ?  Will 
he  attempt  to  intimidate  the  agents  ?  Will  he  threaten  to 
turn  them  out  of  the  house  ?  These  are  generally  the 
tactics  of  titled  criminals.  My  opinion,  however,  is,  that 
he  will  remain  perfectly  cool.  He  will  declare  himself 
the  victim  of  a  misunderstanding,  and  insist  upon  an  im- 
mediate interview  with  the  investigating  magistrate.  Once 
that  is  accorded  him,  he  will  explain  everything  very 
quickly." 

The  old  fellow  spoke  of  matters  of  speculation  in  such 
a  tone  of  assurance  that  M.  Daburon  was  unable  to  re- 
press a  smile.  "  We  have  not  got  as  far  as  that  yet,"  said 
he. 

"  But  we  shall,  in  a  few  hours,"  replied  M.  Tabaret 
quickly.  "  I  presume  you  will  order  young  M.  de  Com- 
marin's  arrest  at  daybreak." 

The  magistrate  trembled,  like  the  patient  who  sees  the 
surgeon  deposit  his  case  of  instruments  upon  the  table  on 
entering  the  room.  The  moment  for  action  had  come. 
He  felt  what  a  distance  lies  between  a  mental  decision 
and  the  physical  action  required  to  execute  it.  You  are 
prompt,  M.  Tabaret,"  said  he ;  "  you  recognize  no  obsta- 
cles." 

"  None,  having  ascertained  the  criminal.  Who  else  can 
have  committed  this  assassination  ?  Who  but  he  had  an 
interest  in  silencing  Widow  LerougCj  in  suppressing  her 
testimony,  in  destroying  her  papers  ?  He,  and  only  he. 
Poor  Noel !  who  is  as  dull  as  honesty,  warned  him,  and 
he  acted.  Should  we  fail  to  establish  his  guilt,  he  will 
remain  de  Commarin  more  than  ever;  and  my  young  bar 
rister  will  be  Noel  Gerdv  to  the  grave." 

'<  Yes,  but—" 

The  old  man  fixed  his  eyes  upon  the  magistrate  with  a 
look  of  astonishment.  "  You  see,  then,  some  difficulties, 
sir  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Most  decidedly  !  "  replied  M.  Daburon.  "  This  is  a 
matter  demanding  the  utmost  circumspection.  In  cases 


n6  TV//:   I.EROUCE  CAS  I.. 

like  the  present,  one  must  not  strike  until  the  blow  is  sure, 
and  we  have  but  presumptions.  Suppose  we  are  mistaken. 
Justice,  unhappily,  cannot  repair  her  errors.  Her  hand 
once  unjustly  placed  upon  a  man,  leaves  an  imprint  of 
dishonour  that  can  never  be  effaced.  She  may  perceive 
her  error,  and  proclaim  it  aloud,  but  in  vain  !  Public 
opinion,  absurd  and  idiotic,  will  not  pardon  the  man 
guilty  of  being  suspected." 

It  was  with  a  sinking  heart  that  the  old  fellow  listened 
to  these  remarks.  He  would  not  be  withheld  by  such  pal- 
try considerations. 

"  Our  suspicions  are  well  grounded,"  continued  the 
magistrate.  "  But,  should  they  lead  us  into  error,  cur 
precipitation  would  be  a  terrible  misfortune  for  this  young 
man,  to  say  nothing  of  the  effect  it  would  have  in  abridg- 
ing the  authority  and  dignity  of  justice,  of  weakening  the 
respect  which  constitutes  her  power.  Such  a  mistake 
would  call  for  discussion,  provoke  examination,  and  awaken 
distrust,  at  an  epoch  in  our  history  when  all  minds  are 
but  too  much  disposed  to  defy  the  constituted  authorities." 

He  leaned  upon  the  table,  and  appeared  to  reflect  pro- 
foundly. "  I  have  no  luck,"  thought  old  Tabaret.  "  I 
have  to  do  with  a  trembler.  When  he  should  act,  he  makes 
speeches ;  instead  of  signing  warrants,  he  propounds  the- 
ories. He  is  astounded  at  my  discover}',  and  is  not  equal 
to  the  situation.  Instead  of  being  delighted  by  my  ap- 
pearance with  the  news  of  our  success,  he  would  have  given 
a  twenty-franc  piece,  I  dare  say,  to  have  been  left  undis- 
turbed. Ah  !  he  would  very  willingly  have  the  little  fishes 
in  his  net,  but  the  big  ones  frighten  him.  The  big  fishes 
are  dangerous,  and  he  prefers  to  let  them  swim  away." 

"  Perhaps,"  said  M.  Daburon,  aloud,  "  it  will  suffice  to 
issue  a  search-warrant,  and  a  summons  for  the  appearance 
of  the  accused." 

"  Then  all  is  lost !  "  cried  old  Tabaret. 

"  And  why,  pray  ?  " 

"  Because  we  are  opposed  by  a  criminal  of  marked 
ability.  A  most  providential  accident  has  placed  us  upon 
his  track.  If  we  give  him  time  to  breathe,  he  will  escape." 

The  only  answer  was  an  inclination  of  the  head,  which 
M.  Daburon  may  have  intended  for  a  sign  of  assent. 

"  It  is  evident,"  continued  the  old  fellow,  "  that  our  ad- 
versary has  foreseen  everything,  absolutely  everything. 


THE  LE ROUGE  CASE.  117 

even  the  possibility  of  suspicion  attaching  to  one  in  his 
high  position.  Oh  !  his  precautions  are  all  taken.  If  you 
are  satisfied  with  demanding  his  appearance,  he  is  saved. 
He  will  appear  before  you  as  tranquilly  as  your  clerk,  as 
unconcerned  as  if  he  came  to  arrange  the  preliminaries 
of  a  duel.  He  will  present  you  w^th  a  magnificent  alibi, 
an  alibi  that  can  not  be  gainsayed.  He  will  show  you 
that  he  passed  the  evening  and  the  night  of  Tuesday  with 
personages  of  the  highest  rank.  In  short,  his  little  ma- 
chine will  be  so  cleverly  constructed,  so  nicely  arranged, 
all  its  little  wheels  will  play  so  well,  that  there  will  be 
nothing  left  for  you  but  to  open  the  door  and  usher  him 
out  with  the  most  humble  apologies.  The  only  means  of 
securing  conviction  is  to  surprise  the  miscreant  by  a 
rapidity  against  which  it  is  impossible  he  can  be  on  his 
guard.  Fall  upon  him  like  a  thunder-clap,  arrest  him  as 
he  wakes,  drag  him  hither  while  yet  pale  with  astonish- 
ment, and  interrogate  him  at  once.  Ah  !  I  wish  I  were 
an  investigating  magistrate." 

Old  Tabaret  stopped  short,  frightened  at  the  idea  that 
he  had  been  wanting  in  respect ;  but  M.  Daburon  showed 
no  sign  of  being  offended.  "  Proceed,"  said  he,  in  a  tone 
of  encouragement,  "  proceed." 

"  Suppose,  then,"  continued  the  detective,  "  I  am  the 
investigating  magistrate.  I  cause  my  man  to  be  arrested, 
and,  twenty  minutes  later,  he  is  standing  before  me.  I 
do  not  amuse  myself  by  putting  questions  to  him,  more 
or  less  subtle.  No,  I  go  straight  to  the  mark.  I  over- 
whelm him  at  once  by  the  weight  of  my  certainty,  prove 
to  him  so  clearly  that  I  know  everything,  that  he  must 
surrender,  seeing  no  chance  of  escape.  I  should  say  to 
him,  '  My  good  man,  you  bring  me  an  alibi ;  it  is  very 
well ;  but  I  am  acquainted  with  that  system  of  defence. 
It  will  not  do  with  me.  I  know  all  about  the  clocks  that 
don't  keep  proper  time,  and  all  the  people  who  never 
lost  sight  of  you.  In  the  meantime,  this  is  what  you  did. 
At  twenty  minutes  past  eight,  you  slipped  away  adroitly  ; 
at  thirty-five  minutes  past  eight,  you  took  the  train  at  the 
St  Lazare  station  ;  at  nine  oclock,  you  alighted  at  the 
station  at  Rueil,  and  took  the  road  to  La  Jonchere ;  at  a 
quarter  past  nine,  you  knocked  at  the  window-shutter  of 
Widow  Lerouge's  cottage.  You  were  admitted.  You 
asked  for  something  to  eat,  and,  above  all,  something  to 


us  THE  I.KKOI:GE  CASK. 

drink.  At  twenty  minutes  past  nine,  you  planted  the 
well-sharpened  end  of  a  foil  between  her  shoulders.  You 
killed  her  !  You  then  overturned  everything  in  the  house, 
and  burned  certain  documents  of  importance  ;  after  which, 
you  tied  up  in  a  napkin  all  the  valuables  you  could  find, 
and  carried  them  off,  to  lead  the  police  to  believe  the 
murder  was  the  work  of  a  robber.  You  locked  the  door, 
and  threw  away  the  key.  Arrived  at  the  Seine,  you  threw 
the  bundle  into  the  water,  then  hurried  off  to  the  railway 
station  on  foot,  and  at  eleven  o'clock  you  reappeared 
amongst  your  friends.  Your  game  was  well  played  ;  but 
you  omitted  to  provide  against  two  adversaries,  a  detec- 
tive, not  easily  deceived,  named  Tirauclair,  and  another 
still  more  clever,  named  chance.  Between  them,  they 
have  got  the  better  of  you.  Moreover,  you  were  foolish 
to  wear  such  small  boots,  and  to  keep  on  your  lavender 
kid  gloves,  besides  embarrassing  yourself  \vith  a  silk  hat 
and  an  umbrella.  Now  confess  your  guilt,  for  it  is  the 
only  thing  left  you  to  do,  and  I  will  give  you  permission 
to  smoke  in  your  dungeon  some  of  those  excellent  trabucos 
you  are  so  fond  of,  and  which  you  always  smoke  with  an 
amber  mouthpiece.'  "  During  this  speech,  M.  Tabaret 
had  gained  at  least  a  couple  of  inches  in  height,  so  great 
was  his  enthusiasm.  He  looked  at  the  magistrate,  as  if 
expecting  a  smile  of  approbation.  "  Yes,"  continued  he, 
after  taking  breath,  "  I  would  say  that,  and  nothing  else  ; 
and,  unless  this  man  is  a  hundred  times  stronger  than  I 
suppose  him  to  be,  unless  he  is  made  of  bronze,  of  marble, 
or  of  steel,  he  would  fall  at  my  feet  and  avow  his  guilt." 

"  But  supposing  he  were  of  bronze,"  said  M.  Daburon, 
"  and  did  not  fall  at  your  feet,  what  would  you  do  next  ?  " 

The  question  evidently  embarrassed  the  old  fellow. 
"  Pshaw  !  "  stammered  he  ;  "I  don't  know  ;  I  would  see  ; 
I  would  search ;  but  he  would  confess." 

After  a  prolonged  silence,  M.  Daburon  took  a  pen,  and 
hurriedly  wrote  a  few  lines.  "  I  surrender,"  said  he. 
"  M.  Albert  de  Commarin  shall  be  arrested ;  that  is 
settled.  The  different  formalities  to  be  gone  through  and 
the  perquisitions  will  occupy  some  time,  which  I  wish  to 
employ  in  interrogating  the  Count  de  Commarin,  the 
young  man's  father,  and  your  friend  M.  Noel  Gerdy,  the 
young  barrister.  The  letters  he  possesses  are  indispen- 
sable to  me." 


THE  LE ROUGE  CASE.  119 

At  the  name  of  Gercly,  M.  Tabaret's  face  assumed  a 
most  comical  expression  of  uneasiness.  "  Confound  it," 
cried  he,  "  the  very  thing  I  most  dreaded." 

"  What  ?  "  asked  M.  Daburon. 

"The  necessity  for  the  examination  of  those  letters. 
Noel  will  discover  my  interference.  He  will  despise  me  : 
lie  will  fly  from  me,  when  he  knows  that  Tabaret  and 
Tirauclair  sleep  in  the  same  nightcap.  Before  eight 
days  are  past,  my  oldest  friends  will  refuse  to  shake 
hands  with  me,  as  if  it  were  not  an  honour  to  serve  justice. 
I  shall  be  obliged  to  change  my  residence,  and  assume  a 
false  name." 

He  almost  wept,  so  great  was  his  annoyance.  M. 
Daburon  was  touched.  "  Reassure  yourself,  my  dear  M. 
Tabaret,"  said  he.  "  I  will  manage  that  your  adopted 
son,  your  Benjamin,  shall  know  nothing.  I  will  lead  him 
to  believe  I  have  reached  him  by  means  of  the  widow's 
papers." 

•  The  old  fellow  seized  the  magistrate's  hand  in  a  trans- 
port of  gratitude,  and  carried  it  to  his  lips.  Oh  !  thanks, 
sir,  a  thousand  thanks  !  I  should  like  to  be  permitted  to 
witness  the  arrest ;  and  I  shall  be  glad  to  assist  at  the 
perquisitions." 

"  I  intended  to  ask  you  to  do  so,  M.  Tabaret,"  answered 
the  magistrate.  The  lamps  paled  in  the  gray  dawn  of  the 
morning ;  already  the  rumbling  of  vehicles  was  heard  ; 
Paris  was  awaking.  "  I  have  no  time  to  lose,"  continued 
M.  Daburon,  "if  I  would  have  all  my  measures  well  taken. 
I  must  at  once  see  the  public  prosecutor,  whether  he  is  up 
or  not.  I  shall  go  direct  from  his  house  to  the  Palais  de 
Justice,  and  be  there  before  eight  o'clock  ;  and  I  desire, 
M.  Tabaret,  that  you  will  there  await  my  orders." 

The  old  fellow  bowed  his  thanks  and  was  about  to  leave, 
when  the  magistrate's  servant  appeared.  "  Here  is  a  note, 
sir,"  said  he,  "which  a  gendarme  has  just  brought  from 
JJougival.  He  waits  an  answer." 

"Very  well,"  replied  M.  Daburon.  "Ask  the  man  to 
have  some  refreshment ;  at  least  offer  him  a  glass  of  wine." 

He  opened  the  envelope.  "Ah!"  he  cried,  "a  letter 
from  Gevrol ;  "  and  he  read  :  "  '  To  the  investigating  mag- 
istrate. Sir,  I  have  the  honor  to  inform  you,  that  I  am  on 
the  track  of  the  man  with  the  ear-rings.  I  heard  of  him 
at  a  wine  shop,  which  he  entered  on  Sunday  morning,  be- 


120  THE  I. E ROUGE  CASE. 

fore  going  to  Widow  Lerouge's  cottage.  He 'bought,  and 
paid  for  two  litres  of  wine ;  then,  suddenly  striking  his 
forehead,  he  cried,  "  Old  fool !  to  forget  that  to-morrow  is 
the  boat's  fete  day ! "  and  immediately  called  for  three 
more  litres.  According  to  the  almanac  the  boat  must  be 
called  the  Saint-Mann.  I  have  also  learned  that  she  was 
laden  with  grain.  I  write  to  the  Prefecture  at  the  same 
time  as  I  write  to  you,  that  inquiries  may  be  made  at  Paris 
and  Rouen.  He  will  be  found  at  one  of  those  places.  I 
am  in  waiting,  sir,  &c.' " 

"  Poor  Gevrol !  "  cried  old  Tabaret,  bursting  with  laugh- 
ter. "  He  sharpens  his  sabre,  and  the  battle  is  over. 
Are  you  not  going  to  put  a  stop  to  his  inquiries,  sir  ? " 

"No;  certainly  not,"  answered  M.  Daburon ;  "to  neg 
lect  the  slightest  clue  often  leads  one  into  error.  Who 
can  tell  what  light  we  may  receive  from  this  mariner  ?  " 


VIII. 

ON  the  same  day  that  the  crime  of  La  Jonchere  was  dis- 
covered, and  precisely  at  the  hour  that  M.  Tabaret  made 
his  memorable  examination  in  the  victim's  chamber,  the 
Viscount  Albert  de  Commarin  entered  his  carriage,  and 
proceeded  to  the  Northern  railway  station,  to  meet  his 
father.  The  young  man  was  very  pale  :  his  pinched  fea- 
tures, his  dull  eyes,  his  blanched  lips,  in  fact  his  whole 
appearance  denoted  either  overwhelming  fatigue  or  un- 
usual sorrow.  All  the  servants  had  observed,  that,  during 
the  past  five  days,  their  young  master  had  not  been  in  his 
ordinary  condition  :  he  spoke  but  little,  ate  almost  nothing, 
and  refused  to  see  any  visitors.  His  valet  noticed  that 
this  singular  change  dated  from  the  visit,  on  Sunday  morn- 
ing, of  a  certain  M.  Noel  Gerdy,  who  had  been  closeted 
with  him  for  three  hours  in  the  library.  The  Viscount, 
gay  as  a  lark  until  the  arrival  of  this  person,  had,  from  the 
moment  of  his  departure,  the  appearance  of  a  man  at  the 
point  of  death.  When  setting  forth  to  meet  his  father,  the 
viscount  appeared  to  suffer  so  acutely  that  M.  Lubin,  his 
valet,  entreated  him  not  to  go  out ;  suggesting  that  it 
would  be  more  prudent  to  retire  to  his  room,  and  call  in 
the  doctor.  But  the  Count  de  Commarin  was  exacting  on 
the  score  of  filial  duty,  and  would  overlook  the  worst  of 


THE  J.EROUGE  CASE.  121 

youthful  indiscretions  sooner  than  what  he  termed  a  want 
of  reverence.  He  had  announced  his  intended  arrival  by 
telegraph,  twenty-four  hours  in  advance ;  therefore  the 
house  was  expected  to  be  in  perfect  readiness  to  receive 
him,  and  the  absence  of  Albert  at  the  railway  station 
would  have  been  resented  as  a  flagrant  omission  of  duty. 
The  viscount  had  been  but  five  minutes  in  the  waiting- 
room,  when  the  bell  announced  the  arrival  of  the  train. 
Soon  the  doors  leading  on  to  the  platform  were  opened, 
and  the  travelers  crowded  in.  The  throng  beginning  to 
thin  a  little,  the  count  appeared,  followed  by  a  servant, 
who  carried  a  travelling  pelisse  lined  with  rare  and  valua- 
ble fur. 

The  Count  de  Commarin  looked  a  good  ten  years  less 
than  his  age.  His  beard  and  hair,  yet  abundant,  were 
scarcely  gray.  He  was  tall  and  muscular,  held  himself 
.upright,  and  carried  his  head  high.  His  appearance  was 
noble,  his  movements  easy.  His  regular  features  present- 
ed a  study  to  the  physiognomist,  all  expressing  easy,  care- 
less good  nature,  even  to  the  handsome,  smiling  mouth ; 
but  in  his  eyes  flashed  the  fiercest  and  the  most  arrogant 
pride.  This  contrast  revealed  the  secret  of  his  character. 
Imbued  quite  as  deeply  with  aristocratic  prejudice  as  the 
Marchioness  d'Arlange,  he  had  progressed  with  his  cen- 
tury or  at  least  appeared  to  have  done  so.  As  fully  as  the 
marchioness,  he  held  in  contempt  all  who  were  not  noble ; 
but  his  disdain  expressed  itself  in  a  different  fashion. 
The  marchioness  proclaimed  her  contempt  loudly  and 
coarsely ;  the  count  had  kept  eyes  and  ears  open  and  had 
seen  and  heard  a  good  deal.  She  was  stupid,  and  with- 
out a  shade  of  common  sense.  He  was  witty  and  sensi- 
ble, and  possessed  enlarged  views  of  life  and  politics. 
She  dreamed  of  the  return  of  the  absurd  traditions  of  a 
former  age ;  he  hoped  for  things  within  the  power  of 
events  to  bring  forth.  He  was  sincerely  persuaded  that 
the  nobles  of  France  would  yet  recover  slowly  and  silently, 
but  surely,  all  their  lost  power,  with  its  prestige  and  influ- 
ence. In  a  word,  the  count  was  the  flattered  portrait  of 
his  class;  the  marchioness  its  caricature.  It  should  be 
added,  that  M.  de  Commarin  knew  how  to  divest  himself 
of  his  crushing  urbanity  in  the  company  of  his  equals. 
There  he  recovered  his  true  character,  haughty,  self-suffi- 
cient, and  intractable,  enduring  contradiction  pretty  much 


(23*  THE  l.EKOl'CE  CASE. 

as  a  wild  horse  the  application  of  the  spur.  In  his  own 
house,  he  was  a  despot. 

Perceiving  his  father,  Albert  advanced  towards  him. 
They  shook  hands  and  embraced  with  an  air  as  noble  as 
ceremonious,  and,  in  less  than  a  minute,  had  exchanged 
,»!!  the  news  that  had  transpired  during  the  count's  ab- 
sence. Then  only  did  M.  de  Commarin  perceive  the  alter- 
ation in  his  son's  face.  "  You  are  unwell,  viscount,"  said 
he. 

"  Oh,  no,  sir,"  answered  Albert,  laconically. 

The  count  uttered  "Ah!"  accompanied  by  a  certain 
movement  of  the  head,  which,  with  him,  expressed  perfect 
incredulity ;  then,  turning  to  his  servant,  he  gave  him 
some  orders  briefly.  "  Now,"  resumed  he,  "  let  us  go 
quickly  to  the  house.  I  am  in  haste  to  feel  at  home ;  and 
I  am  hungry,  having  had  nothing  to-day,  but  some  detest' 
able  broth,  at  I  know  not  what  way  station." 

M.  de  Commarin  had  returned  to  Paris  in  a  very  bad 
temper,  his  journey  to  Austria  had  not  brought  the  results 
he  had  hoped  for.  To  crown  his  dissatisfaction,  he  had 
rested,  on  his  homeward  way,  at  the  chateau  of  an  old 
friend,  with  whom  he  had  had  so  violent  a  discussion  that  they 
had  parted  without  shaking  hands.  The  count  was  hardly 
seated  in  his  carnage  before  he  entered  upon  the  subject 
of  this  disagreement.  "I  have  quarrelled  with  the  Duke 
de  Sairmeuse,"  said  he  to  his  son. 

"  That  seems  to  me  to  happen  whenever  you  meet,"  an- 
swered Albert,  without  intending  any  raillery. 

"  True,"  said  the  count :  "  but  this  is  serious.  I  passed 
four  days  at  his  country-seat,  in  a  state  of  inconceivable 
exasperation.  He  has  entirely  forfeited  my  esteem. 
Sairmeuse  has  sold  his  estate  of  Gondresy,  one  of  the  finest 
in  the  north  of  France.  He  has  cut  down  the  timber,  and 
put  up  to  auction  the  old  chateau,  a  princely  dwelling, 
which  is  to  be  converted  into  a  sugar  refinery ;  all  this  for 
for  the  purpose,  as  he  says,  of  raising  money  to  increase 
his  income  !  " 

"  And  was  that  the  cause  of  your  rupture  ?  "  inquired 
Albert,  without  much  surprise. 

"  Certainly  it  was !  Do  you  not  think  it  a  sufficient 
one  ?  " 

"  But,  sir,  you  know  the  duke  has  a  large  family,  and  is 
far  from  rich." 


THE  LEROUGE  CASE,  123 

"  What  of  that  ?  A  French  noble  who  sells  his  land 
commits  an  unworthy  act.  He  is  guilty  of  treason  against 
his  order !  " 

"  Oh,  sir,"  said  Albert,  deprecatingly. 

"  I  said  treason  !  "  continued  the  count.  "  I  maintain 
the  word.  Remember  well,  viscount,  power  has  been, 
and  always  will  be,  on  the  side  of  wealth,  especially  on  the 
side  of  those  who  hold  the  soil.  The  men  of  '93  well 
understood  this  principle,  and  acted  upon  it.  By  impov- 
erishing the  nobles,  they  destroyed  their  prestige  more 
effectually  than  by  abolishing  their  titles.  A  prince  dis- 
mounted, and  without  footmen,  is  no  more  than  any  one 
else." 

The  carriage  at  this  moment  stopped  in  the  court-yard 
of  the  de  Commarin  mansion,  after  having  described  that 
perfect  half-circle,  the  glory  of  coachmen  who  preserve  the 
old  tradition.  The  count  alighted  first,  and  leaning  upon 
his  son's  arm,  ascended  the  steps. of  the  grand  entrance. 
In  the  immense  vestibule,  nearly  all  the  servants,  dressed 
in  rich  liveries,  stood  in  a  line.  The  count  gave  them  a 
glance,  in  passing,  as  an  officer  might  his  soldiers  f-n  pa- 
rade, and  proceeded  to  his  apartment  on  the  first  floor, 
above  the  reception  rooms.  Never  was  there  a  better 
regulated  household  than  that  of  the  Count  de  Commarin. 
He  possessed  in  a  high  degree  the  art,  more  rare  than  is 
generally  supposed,  of  commanding  an  army  of  servants. 
The  number  of  his  domestics  caused  him  neither  inconven- 
ience nor  embarrassment.  They  were  necessary  tp-  hin^ 
So  perfect  was  the  organisation  of  this  household,  that  its 
functions  were  performed  like  those  of  a  machine,^ -with- 
out noise,  variation,  or  effort. 

M.  de  Commarin  had  hardly  removed  the  traces  of  his 
journey,  and  changed  his  dress,  when  his  butler  announced 
that  the  dinner  was  served.  He  went  down  at  once  ;  and 
father  and  son  met  upon  the  threshold  of  the  dining-room. 
This  was  a  large  apartment,  with  a  very  high  ceiling,  as 
were  all  the  rooms  of  the  ground  floor,  and  was  mos*  mag- 
nificently furnished.  The  count  was  not  only  a  great  eater, 
but  was  vain  of  his  enormous  appetite.  He  was  fond  of 
recalling  the  names  of  great  men,  noted  for  their  capacity 
of  stomach.  Charles  V.  devoured  mountains  of  viands. 
Louis  XIV.  swallowed  at  each  repast  as  much  as  six  ordi- 
nary men  would  eat  at  a  meal.  He  pretended  that  one 


LEROUGE  CA.M:. 

can  almost  judge  of  men's  qualities  by  their  digestive  ca- 
pacities; he  compared  them  to  lamps,  whose  power  of 
giving  light  is  in  proportion  to  the  oil  they  consume. 
I  )uring  the  first  half  hour,  the  count  and  his  son  both  remain- 
ed silent.  M.  de  Commarin  ate  conscientiously,  not  per 
ceiving  or  not  caring  to  notice  that  Albert  ate  nothing,  but 
merely  sat  at  the  table  as  if  to  countenance  him.  The  old 
nobleman's  ill-humour  and  volubility  returned  with  the 
dessert,  apparently  increased  by  a  Burgundy  of  which  he 
was  particularly  fond,  and  of  which  he  drank  freely.  He 
was  partial,  moreover,  to  an  after  dinner  argument,  pro- 
fessing a  theory  that  moderate  discussion  is  a  perfect 
digestive.  A  letter  which  had  been  delivered  to  him  on 
his  arrival,  and  which  he  had  found  time  to  glance  over, 
gave  him  at  once  a  subject  and  a  point  of  departure.  "  I 
arrived  home  but  an  hour  ago ; "  said  he,  "  and  I  have 
already  received  a  homily  from  Broisfresnay." 

"  He  writes  a  great  deal,"  observed  Albert. 

"  Too  much  ;  he  consumes  himself  in  ink.  He  mentions 
a  lot  more  of  his  ridiculous  projects  and  vain  hopes,  and 
he  mentions  a  dozen  names  of  men  of  his  own  stamp  who 
are  his  associates.  On  my  word  of  honor,  they  seem  to 
have  lost  their  senses  !  They  talk  of  lifting  the  world, 
only  they  want  a  lever  and  something  to  rest  it  on.  It 
makes  me  die  with  laughter  !  "  For  ten  minutes  the  count 
continued  to  discharge  a  volley  of  abuse  and  sarcasm 
against  his  best  friends,  without  seeming  to  see  that  a 
great  many  of  their  foibles  which  he  ridiculed  were  also  a 
little  his  own.  "  If,"  continued  he  more  seriously, — "  if 
they  only  possessed  a  little  confidence  in  themselves,  if 
they  showed  the  least  audacity !  But  no  !  they  count  upon 
others  to  do  for  them  what  they  ought  to  do  for  them- 
selves. In  short,  their  proceedings  are  a  series  of  con- 
fessions of  helplessness,  of  premature  declarations  of 
failure." 

The  coffee  having  been  served,  the  count  made  a  sign, 
and  the  servants  left  the  room. 

"  No,"  continued  he,  "  I  see  but  one  hope  for  the  French 
aristocracy,  but  one  plank  of  salvation,  one  good  little  law, 
establishing  the  right  of  primogeniture." 

"  You  will. never  obtain  it."    ' 

"  You  think  not  ?  Would  you  then  oppose  such  a  meas- 
ure, viscount  ? " 


THE  LE ROUGE  CASE. 


125 


Albert  knew  by  experience  what  dangerous  ground  his 
father  was  approaching,  and  remained  silent. 

"  Let  us  put  it,  then,  that  I  dream  of  the  impossible  !  " 
resumed  the  count.  "  Then  let  the  nobles  do  their  duty. 
Let  all  the  younger  sons  and  the  daughters  of  our  great 
families  forego  their  rights,  by  giving  up  the  entire  patri- 
mony to  the  first-born  for  five  generations,  contenting 
themselves  each  with  a  couple  of  thousand  francs  a  year. 
By  that  means  great  fortunes  can  be  reconstructed,  and 
families,  instead  of  being  divided  by  a  variety  of  interests, 
become  united  by  one  common  desire." 

"  Unfortunately,"  objected  the  viscount,  "  the  time  is 
not  favorable  to  such  devotedness." 

"  I  know  it,  sir,"  replied  the  count,  quickly ;  "  and  in 
my  own  house  I  have  the  proof  of  it.  I,  your  father,  have 
conjured  you  to  give  up  all  idea  of  marrying  the  grand- 
daughter of  that  old  fool,  the  Marchioness  d'Arlange. 
And  all  to  no  purpose  ;  for  I  have  at  last  been  obliged  to 
yield  to  your  wishes." 

"  Father — "  Albert  commenced. 

"It  is  well,"  interrupted  the  count.  "You  have  my 
word  ;  but  remember  my  prediction  :  you  will  strike  a  fatal 
blow  at  our  house.  You  will  be  one  of  the  largest  pro- 
prietors in  France  ;  but  have  half  a  dozen  children,  and 
they  will  be  hardly  rich.  If  they  also  have  as  many,  you 
will  probably  see  your  grandchildren  in  poverty  !  " 

"  You  put  all  at  the  worst,  father." 

"  Without  doubt :  it  is  the  only  means  of  pointing  out  the 
danger,  and  averting  the  evil.  You  talk  of  your  life's 
happiness.  What  is  that?  A  true  noble  thinks  of  his 
name  above  all.  Mademoiselle  d'Arlange  is  very  pretty, 
and  very  attractive  ;  but  she  is  penniless.  I  had  found  an 
heiress  for  you." 

"  Whom  I  should  never  love  !  " 

"  And  what  of  that  ?  She  would  have  brought  you  four 
millions  in  her  apron, — more  than  the  kings  of  to-day  give 
their  daughters.  Besides  which  she  had  great  expecta- 
tions." 

The  discussion  upon  this  subject  would  have  been  in- 
terminable, had  Albert  taken  an  active  share  in  it ;  but  his 
thoughts  were  far  away.  He  answered  from  time  to  time 
so  as  not  to  appear  absolutely  dumb,  and  then  only  a  few 
syllables.  This  absence  of  opposition  was  more  irritating 


126  THE  LEROUGE  CASE. 

to  the  count  than  the  most  obstinate  contradiction.  He 
therefore  directed  his  utmost  efforts  to  excite  his  son  to 
argue.  However  he  was  vainly  prodigal  of  words,  and 
unsparing  in  unpleasant  allusions,  so  that  at  last  he  fairly 
lost  his  temper,  and,  on  receiving  a  laconic  reply,  he  burst 
forth  :  "  Upon  my  word,  the  butler's  son  would  say  the 
same  as  you  !  What  blood  have  you  in  your  veins  ?  You 
are  more  like  one  of  the  people  than  a  Viscount  de 
Commarin  !  " 

There  are  certain  conditions  of  mind  in  which  the  least 
conversation  jars  upon  the  nerves.  During  the  last  hour, 
Albert  had  suffered  an  intolerable  punishment.  The 
patience  with  which  he  had  armed  himself  at  last  escaped 
him.  "  Well,  sir,"  he  answered,  "  if  I  resemble  one  of  the 
people,  there  are  perhaps  good  reasons  for  it." 

The  glance  with  which  the  viscount  accompanied  his 
speech  was  so  expressive  that  the  count  experienced  a 
sudden  shock.  All  his  animation  forsook  him,  and  in  a 
hesitating  voice,  he  asked  :  "  What  is  that  you  say,  vis- 
count ? " 

Albert  had  no  sooner  uttered  the  sentence  than  he  re- 
gretted his  precipitation  ,  but  he  had  gone  too  far  to  stop. 

"  Sir,"  he  replied  with  some  embarrassment,  "  I  have  to 
acquaint  you  with  some  important  matters.  My  honour, 
yours,  the  honour  of  our  house,  are  involved.  I  intended 
postponing  this  conversation  till  to-morrow,  not  desiring 
to  trouble  you  on  the  evening  of  your  return.  However,  as 
you  wish  me  to  explain,  I  will  do  so." 

The  count  listened  with  ill-concealed  anxiety.  He 
seemed  to  have  divined  what  his  son  was  about  to  say,  and 
was  terrified  at  himself  for  having  divined  it. 

"Believe  me,  sir,"  continued  Albert  slowly,  "whatever 
may  have  been  your  acts,  my  voice  will  never  be  raised  to 
reproach  you.  Your  constant  kindness  to  me — " 

M.  de  Commarin  held  up  his  hand.  "A  trace  to  pre- 
ambles ;  let  me  have  the  facts  without  phrases,"  said  he 
sternly. 

Albert  was  some  time  without  answering  ,'  he  hesitated 
how  to  commence.  "  Sir,"  said  he  at  length,  "  during  your 
absence,  I  have  read  all  your  correspondence  with  Madame 
Gerdy.  All!"  added  he,  emphasising  the  word,  already 
so  significant. 

The  count,  as  thoiigh  stung  by  a  serpent,  started  up 


THE  LEROUGE  CASE.  127 

with  such  violence  that  he  overturned  his  chair.  "  Not 
another  word !  "  cried  he  in  a  terrible  voice.  "  I  forbid 
you  to  speak  !  "  But  he  no  doubt  soon  felt  ashamed  of  his 
violence,  for  he  quietly  raised  his  chair,  and  resumed  in  a 
tone  which  he  strove  ta  render  light  and  rallying  :  "  Who 
will  hereafter  refuse  to  believe  in  presentiments  ?  A 
couple  of  hours  ago,  on  seeing  your  pale  face  at  the  rail- 
way station,  I  felt  that  you  had  learned  more  or  less  of 
this  affair.  I  was  sure  of  it."  There  was  a  long  silence. 
With  one  accord,  father  and  son  avoided  letting  their  eyes 
meet,  lest  they  might  encounter  glances  too  eloquent  to 
bear  at  so  painful  a  moment.  "  You  were  right,  sir,"  con- 
tinued the  count,  "  our  honour  is  involved.  It  is  im- 
portant that  we  should  decide  on  our  future  conduct  with- 
out delay.  Will  you  follow  me  to  my  room  ?  "  He  rang 
the  bell,  and  a  footman  appeared  almost  immediately. 
"  Neither  the  viscount  nor  I  am  at  home  to  any  one,"  said 
M.  de  Commarin,  "no  matter  whom." 


IX. 

THE  revelation  which  had  just  taken  place,  irritated 
much  more  than  it  surprised  ihe  Count  de  Commarin. 
For  twenty  years,  he  had  been-  constantly  expecting  to  see 
the  truth  brought  to  light.  He  knew  that  there  can  be  no 
secret  so  carefully  guarded  that  it  may  not  by  some  chance 
escape ;  and  his  had  been  known  to  four  people,  three  of 
whom  were  still  living.  He  had  not  forgotten  that  he  had 
been  imprudent  enough  to  trust  it  to  paper,  knowing  all 
the  while  that  it  ought  never  to  have  been  written.  How 
was  it  that  he,  a  prudent  diplomat,  a  statesman,  full  of 
precaution,  had  been  so  foolish  ?  How  was  it  that  he  had 
allowed  this  fatal  correspondence  to  remain  in  existence  ! 
Why  had  he  not  destroyed,  at  no  matter  what  cost,  these 
overwhelming  proofs,  which  sooner  or  later  might  be  used 
against  him  ?  Such  imprudence  could  only  have  arisen 
from  an  absurd  passion,  blind  and  insensible,  even  to  mad- 
ness. So  long  as  he  was  Valerie's  lover,  the  count  never 
thought  of  asking  the  return  of  his  letters  from  his  beloved 
accomplice.  If  the  idea  had  occurred  to  him,  he  would 
have  repelled  it  as  an  insult  to  the  character  of  his  angel, 
reason  could  he  have  had  to  suspect  her  discretion  ? 


128  THE  LE ROUGE  CASE. 

None.  He  would  have  been  much  more  likely  to  have 
supposed  her  desirous  of  removing  every  trace,  even  the 
slighted,  of  what  had  taken  place.  Was  it  not  her  son 
who  had  received  the  benefits  of  the  deed,  who  had  usurped 
another's  name  and  fortune  ?  When  eight  years  after, 
believing  her  to  be  unfaithful,  the  count  had  put  an  end 
to  the  connection  which  had  given  him  so  much  happiness, 
he  thought  of  obtaining  possession  of  this  unhappy  cor- 
respondence. But  he  knew  not  how  to  do  so.  A  thou- 
sand reasons  prevented  his  moving  in  the  matter.  The 
principal  one  was,  that  he  did  not  wish  to  see  this  woman 
once  so  dearly  loved.  He  did  not  feel  sufficiently  sure 
either  of  his  anger  or  of  his  firmness.  Could  he,  without 
yielding,  resist  the  tearful  pleading  of  those  eyes,  which 
had  so  long  held  complete  sway  over  him  ?  To  look 
again  upon  this  mistress  of  his  youth  would,  he  feared, 
result  in  his  forgiving  her ;  and  he  had  been  too  cruelly 
wounded  in  his  pride  and  in  his  affection  to  admit  the  idea 
of  a  reconciliation.  On  the  other  hand,  to  obtain  the 
letters  though  a  third  party  was  entirely  out  of  the  ques- 
tion. He  abstained,  then,  from  all  action,  postponing  it 
indefinitely.  "  I  will  go  to  her,"  said  he  to  himself  ;  "  but 
not  until  I  have  so  torn  her  from  my  heart  that  she  will 
have  become  indifferent  to  me.  I  will  not  gratify  her  with 
the  sight  of  my  grief."  So  months  and  years  passed  on  ; 
and  finally  he  began  to  say  and  believe  that  it  was  too  late. 
And  for  now  more  than  twenty  years,  he  had  never  passed 
a  day  without  cursing  his  inexcusable  folly.  Never  had  he 
been  able  to  forget  that  above  his  head  a  danger  more 
terrible  than  the  sword  of  Damocles  hung,  suspended  by  a 
thread,  which  the  slightest  accident  might  break.  And 
now  that  thread,  had  broken.  Often,  when  considering 
the  possibility  of  such  a  catastrophe,  he  had  asked  him- 
self how  he  should  avert  it  ?  He  had  formed  and  rejected 
many  plans  :  he  had  deluded  himself,  like  all  men  of  im- 
agination, with  innumerable  chimerical  projects,  and  now 
he  found  himself  quite  unprepared. 

Albert  stood  respectfully,  while  his  father  sat  in  his  great 
armorial  chair,  just  beneath  the  large  frame  in  which  the 
genealogical  tree  of  the  illustrious  family  of  Rheteau  de 
Commarin  spread  its  luxuriant  branches.  The  old  gentle- 
man completely  concealed  the  cruel  apprehensions  which 
oppressed  him.  He  seemed  neither  irritated  nor  dejected; 


THE  LEROUGE  CASE.  129 

but  his  eyes  expressed  a  haughtiness  more  than  usually 
disdainful,  and  a  self-reliance  full  of  contempt.  "  Now, 
viscount."  he  began  in  a  firm  voice,  "  explain  yourself.  I 
need  say  nothing  to  you  of  the  position  of  a  father,  obliged 
to  blush  before  his  son ;  you  understand  it,  and  will  feel 
for  me.  Let  us  spare  each  other,  and  try  to  be  calm.  Tell 
me,  how  did  you  obtain  your  knowledge  of  this  correspon- 
dence ? " 

Albert  had  had  time  to  recover  himself,  and  prepare  for 
the  present  struggle,  as  he  had  impatiently  waited  four 
days  for  this  interview.  The  difficulty  he  experienced  in 
uttering  the  first  words  had  now  given  place  to  a  dignified 
and  proud  demeanor.  He  expressed  himself  clearly  and 
forcibly,  without  losing  himself  in  those  details  which  in 
serious  matters  needlessly  defer  the  real  point  at  issue. 
"  Sir,"  he  replied,  "  on  Sunday  morning,  a  young  man 
called  here,  stating  that  he  had  business  with  me  of  the 
utmost  importance.  I  received  him.  He  then  revealed  to 
me  that  I,  alas  !  am  only  your  natural  son,  substituted, 
through  your  affection,  for  the  legitimate  child  borne  you 
by  Madame  de  Commarin." 

"  And  did  you  not  have  this  man  kicked  out  of  doors  ? " 
exclaimed  the  count. 

"  No,  sir.  I  was  about  to  answer  him  very  sharply,  of 
course  ;  but,  presenting  me  with  a  packet  of  letters,  he 
begged  me  to  read  them  before  replying." 

"  Ah  !  "  cried  M.  de  Commarin,  "  you  should  have  thrown 
them  into  the  fire,  for  there  was  a  fire,  I  suppose  ?  You 
held  them  in  your  hands  ;  and  they  still  exist !  Why  was  I 
not  there  ? " 

"  Sir !  "  said  Albert,  reproachfully.  And,  recalling  the 
position  Noel  had  occupied  against  the  mantelpiece,  and 
the  manner  in  which  he  stood,  he  added, — "  Even  if  the 
thought  had  occurred  to  me,  it  was  impracticable.  Besides, 
at  the  first  glance,  I  recognised  your  handwriting.  I  there- 
fore took  the  letters,  and  read  them." 

"  And  then  ?  " 

"  And  then,  sir,  I  returned  the  correspondence  to  the 
young  man,  and  asked  for  a  delay  of  eight  days  ;  not  to 
think  over  it  myself — there  was  no  need  of  that, — but 
because  I  judged  an  interview  with  you  indispensable. 
Now,  therefore,  I  beseech  you,  tell  me  whether  this  substi- 
tution really  did  take  place." 


130  THE  LE ROUGE  CASE. 

"  Certainly  it  did,"  replied  the  count  violently,  "  yes,  cer- 
tainly.  You  know  that  it  did,  for  you  have  read  what  I 
wrote  to  Madame  Gerdy,  your  mother." 

Albert  had  foreseen,  had  expected  this  reply ;  but  it 
crushed  him  nevertheless.  There  are  misfortunes  so  great, 
that  one  must  constantly  think  of  them  to  believe  in  their 
existence.  This  flinching,  however,  lasted  but  an  instant. 
"  Pardon  me,  sir,"  he  replied.  "  I  was  almost  convinced  ; 
but  I  had  not  received  a  formal  assurance  of  it.  All  the 
letters  that  I  read  spoke  distinctly  of  your  purpose,  detailed 
your  plan  minutely ;  but  not  one  pointed  to,  or  in  any  way 
confirmed,  the  execution  of  your  project." 

The  count  gazed  at  his  son  with  a  look  of  intense  sur- 
prise. He  recollected  distinctly  all  the  letters;  and  he 
could  remember,  that,  in  writing  to  Valerie,  he  had  over 
and  over  again  rejoiced  at  their  success,  thanking  her  for 
having  acted  in  accordance  with  his  wishes.  "  You  did 
not  go  to  the  end  of  them,  then,  viscount,"  he  said,  "  you 
did  not  read  them  all  ?  " 

"  Every  line,  sir,  and  with  an  attention  that  you  may  well 
understand.  The  last  letter  shown  me  simply  announced 
to  Madame  Gerdy  the  arrival  of  Claudine  Lerouge,  the 
nurse  who  was  charged  with  accomplishing  the  substitution. 
I  know  nothing  beyond  that." 

"  These  proofs  amount  to  nothing,"  muttered  the  count. 
"  A  man  may  form  a  plan,  cherish  it  for  a  long  time,  and 
at  the  last  moment  abandon  it ;  it  often  happens  so."  He 
reproached  himself  for  having  answered  so  hastily.  Albert 
had  had  only  serious  suspicions,  and  he  had  changed  them 
to  certainty.  What  stupidity  !  "  There  can  be  no  possible 
doubt,"  he  said  to  himself ;  "  Valerie  has  destroyed  the 
most  conclusive  letters,  those  which  appeared  to  her  the 
most  dangerous,  those  I  wrote  after  the  substitution.  But 
why  has  she  preserved  these  others,  compromising  enough 
in  themselves  ?  and  why,  after  having  preserved  them,  has 
she  let  them  go  out  of  her  possession  ?  " 

Without  moving,  Albert  awaited  a  word  from  the  count. 
What  would  it  be  ?  No  doubt,  the  old  nobleman  was  at 
that  moment  deciding  what  he  should  do. 

"  Perhaps  she  is  dead  !  "  said  M.  de  Commarin  aloud. 
And  at  the  thought  that  Valerie  was  dead,  without  his 
having  again  seen  her,  he  started  painfully.  His  heart, 
after  more  than  twenty  years  of  voluntary  separation,  stil/ 


THE  LEROUGE  CASE.  iji 

suffered,  so  deeply  rooted  was  this  first  love  of  his  youth. 
He  had  cursed  her;  at  this  moment  he  pardoned  her. 
True,  she  had  deceived  him ;  but  did  he  not  owe  to  her 
the  only  years  of  happiness  he  had  ever  known  ?  Had 
she  not  formed  all  the  poetry  of  his  youth  ?  Had  he  ex- 
perienced, since  leaving  her,  one  single  hour  of  joy  or  for- 
getfulness  ?  In  his  present  frame  of  mind,  his  heart  re- 
tained only  happy  memories,  like  a  vase  which,  once  filled 
with  precious  perfumes,  retains  the  odour  until  it  is  de- 
stroyed. "  Poor  woman  !  "  he  murmured. 

He  sighed  deeply.  Three  or  four  times  his  eyelids  trem- 
bled, as  if  a  tear  were  about  to  fall.  Albert  watched  him 
with  anxious  curiosity.  This  was  the  first  time  since  the 
viscount  had  grown  to  man's  estate  that  he  had  surprised 
in  his  father's  countenance  other  emotion  than  ambition 
or  pride,  triumphant  or  defeated.  But  M.  de  Commarin 
was  not  the  man  to  yield  long  to  sentiment.  "You  have 
not  told  me,  viscount,"  he  said,  "  who  sent  you  that  mes- 
senger of  misfortune." 

"  He  came  in  person,  sir,  not  wishing,  he  told  me,  to 
mix  any  others  up  in  this  sad  affair.  The  young  man  was 
no  other  than  he  whose  place  I  have  occupied, — your  legit- 
imate son,  M.  Noel  Gerdy  himself." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  count  in  a  low  tone,  "  Noel,  that  is  his 
name,  I  remember."  And  then,  with  evident  hesitation, 
he  added  :  "  Did  he  speak  to  you  of  his — of  your  mother  ?  " 

"  Scarcely,  sir.  He  only  told  me  that  he  came  unknown 
to  her ;  that  he  had  accidentally  discovered  the  secret 
which  he  revealed  to  me." 

M.  de  Commarin  asked  nothing  further.  There  was 
more  for  him  to  learn.  He  remained  for  some  time  deep 
in  thought.  The  decisive  moment  had  come  ;  and  he  saw 
but  one  way  to  escape.  "  Come,  viscount,"  he  said,  in  a 
tone  so  affectionate  that  Albert  was  astonished,  "  do  not 
stand  ;  sit  down  here  by  me,  and  let  us  discuss  this  matter. 
Let  us  unite  our  efforts  to  shun,  if  possible,  this  great  mis- 
fortune. Confide  in  me,  as  a  son  should  in  his  father. 
Have  you  thought  of  what  is  to  be  done  ?  have  you  formed 
any  determination  ? " 

"  It  seems  to  me,  sir,  that  hesitation  is  impossible." 

"  In  what  way  ?  " 

"  My  duty,  father,  is  very  plain.  Before  your  legitimate 
son,  I  ought  to  give  way  without  a  murmur,  if  not  without 


132  THE  LEROUGE  CASE. 

regret.  Let  him  come.  I  am  ready  to  yield  to  him  every- 
thing that  I  have  so  long  kept  from  him  without  a  suspicion 
of  the  truth — his  father's  love,  his  fortune  and  his  name.51 

At  this  most  praiseworthy  reply,  the  old  nobleman  could 
scarcely  preserve  the  calmness  he  had  recommended  to 
his  son  in  the  earlier  part  of  the  interview.  His  face  grew 
purple  ;  and  he  struck  the  table  with  his  fist  more  furiously 
than  he  had  ever  done  in  his  life.  He,  usually  so  guard- 
ed, so  decorous  on  all  occasions,  uttered  a  volley  of  oaths 
that  would  not  have  done  discredit  to  an  old  cavalry  officer. 
"And  I  tell  you,  sir,  that  this  dream  of  yours  shall  never 
take  place.  No  ;  that  it  sha'n't.  I  swear  it.  I  promise 
you,  whatever  happens,  understand,  that  things  shall  re- 
main as  they  are ;  because  it  is  my  will.  You  are.  Vis- 
count de  Commarin,  and  Viscount  de  Commarin  you  shall 
remain,  in  spite  of  yourself,  if  necessary.  You  shall  retain 
the  title  to  your  death,  or  at  least  to  mine  ;  for  never,  while 
I  live,  shall  your  absurd  idea  be  carried  out." 

"  But,  sir,"  began  Albert,  timidly. 

"  You  are  very  daring  to  interrupt  me  while  I  am  speak- 
ing, sir,"  exclaimed  the  count.  "  Do  I  not  know  all  your 
objections  beforehand  ?  You  are  going  to  tell  me  that  it 
is  a  revolting  injustice,  a  wicked  robbery.  I  confess  it, 
and  grieve  over  it  more  than  you  possibly  can.  Do  you 
think  that  I  now  for  the  first  time  repent  of  my  youlhful 
folly  ?  For  twenty  years,  sir,  I  have  lamented  my  true  son  ; 
for  twenty  years  I  have  cursed  the  wickedness  of  which 
he  is  the  victim.  And  yet  I  learnt  how  to  keep  silence, 
and  to  hide  the  sorrow  and  remorse  which  have  covered 
my  pillow  with  thorns.  In  a  single  instant,  your  sense- 
less yielding  would  render  my  long  sufferings  of  no  avail. 
No,  I  will  never  permit  it ! "  The  count  read  a  reply 
on  his  son's  lips :  he  stopped  him  with  a  withering  glance. 
"  Do  you  think,"  he  continued,  "  that  I  have  never  wept 
over  the  thought  of  my  legitimate  son  passing  his  life 
struggling  for  a  competence  ?  Do  you  think  that  I  have 
never  felt  a  burning  desire  to  repair  the  wrong  done  him  ? 
There  have  been  times,  sir,  when  I  would  have  given  half 
of  my  fortune  simply  to  embrace  that  child  of  a  wife  too 
tardily  appreciated.  The  fear  of  casting  a  shadow  of  sus- 
picion upon  your  birth  prevented  me.  I  have  sacrificed 
myself  to  the  great  name  I  bear.  I  received  it  from  my 
ancestors  without  a  stain.  Mav  you  hand  it  down  to  vour 


77fE  LEROUGE  CASE.  .        133 

children  equally  spotless  !  Your  first  impulse  was  a  worthy 
one,  generous  and  noble ;  but  you  must  forget  it.  Think 
of  the  scandal,  if  our  secret  should  be  disclosed  to  the 
public  gaze.  Can  you  not  foresee  the  joy  of  our  enemies, 
of  that  herd  of  upstarts  which  surrounds  us  ?  I  shudder 
at  the  thought  of  the  odium  and  the  ridicule  which  would 
cling  to  our  name.  Too  many  families  already  have  stains 
upon  their  escutcheons  ;  I  will  have  none  on  mine." 

M.  de  Commarin  remained  silent  for  several  minutes, 
during  which  Albert  did  not  dare  say  a  word,  so  much  had 
he  been  accustomed  since  infancy  to  respect  the  least  wish 
of  the  terrible  old  gentleman.  "  There  is  no  possible  way 
out  of  it,"  continued  the  count.  "  Can  I  discard  you  to-mor- 
row, and  present  this  Noel  as  my  son,  saying,  '  Excuse  me, 
but  there  has  been  a  slight  mistake  ;  this  one  is  the  vis- 
count ? '  And  then  the  tribunals  will  get  hold  of  it.  What 
does  it  matter  who  is  named  Benoit,  Durand,  or  Bernard? 
But,  when  one  is  called  Commarin,  even  but  for  a  single 
day,  one  must  retain  that  name  through  life.  The  same 
moral  does  not  do  for  everyone ;  because  we  have  not  the 
same  duties  to  perform.  In  our  position,  errors  are  irre- 
parable. Take  courage,  then,  and  show  yourself  worthy  of 
the  name  you  bear.  The  storm  is  upon  you ;  raise  your 
head  to  meet  it."  Albert's  impassibility  contributed  not 
a  little  to  increase  M.  de  Commarin's  irritation.  Firm  in 
an  unchangeable  resolution,  the  viscount  listened  like  one 
fulfilling  a  duty  :  and  his  face  reflected  no  emotion.  The 
count  saw  that  he  was  not  shaken.  "  What  have  you  to 
reply  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  It  seems  to  me  sir,  that  you  have  no  idea  of  all  the 
dangers  which  I  foresee.  It  is  difficult  to  master  the  revolts 
of  conscience." 

"  Indeed  !"  interrupted  the  count  contemptuously  ;  "  your 
conscience  revolts,  does  it  ?  It  has  chosen  its  time  badly. 
Your  scruples  come  too  late.  So  long  as  you  saw  that 
your  inheritance  consisted  of  an  illustrious  title  and  a 
dozen  or  so  of  millions,  it  pleased  you.  To-day  the  name 
appears  to  you  laden  with  a  heavy  fault,  a  crime,  if  you 
will  ;  and  your  conscience  revolts.  Renounce  this  folly. 
Children,  sir,  are  accountable  to  their  fathers  ;  and  they 
should  obey  them.  Willing  or  unwilling,  you  must  be  my 
accomplice  ;  willing  or  unwilling,  you  must  bear  the  bur- 
den, as  I  have  borne  it.  And,  however  much  you  ma> 


134  THE  LEROUGE  CAS/:. 

suffer,  be  assured  your  sufferings  can  never  approach  what 
I  have  endured  for  so  many  years." 

"  Ah,  sir  ! "  cried  Albert,  '*  it  is  then  I,  the  dispossessor, 
who  has  made  this  trouble  ?  is  it  not,  on  the  contrary,  the 
dispossessed  !  It  is  not  1  who  you  have  to  convince,  it  is 
M.  Noel  Gerdy." 

"  Noel !  "  repeated  the  count. 

"  Your  legitimate  son,  yes,  sir.  You  act  as  if  the  issue 
of  this  unhappy  affair  depended  solely  upon  my  will.  Do 
you  then,  imagine  that  M.  Gerdy  will  be  so  easily  disposed 
of,  so  easily  silenced  ?  And,  if  he  should  raise  his  voice, 
do  you  hope  to  move  him  by  the  considerations  you  have 
just  mentioned  ? " 

"  I  do  not  fear  him." 

"Then  you  are  wrong,  sir,  permit  me  to  tell  you.  Sup- 
pose for  a  moment  that  this  young  man  has  a  soul  suffi- 
ciently noble  to  relinquish  his  claim  upon  your  rank  and 
your  fortune.  Is  there  not  now  the  accumulated  rancour 
of  years  to  urge  him  to  oppose  you  ?  He  cannot  help  feel- 
ing a  fierce  resentment  for  the  horrible  injustice  of  which 
he  has  been  the  victim.  He  must  passionately  long  for 
vengeance,  or  rather  reparation." 

"  He  has  no  proofs." 

"  He  has  your  letters,  sir." 

"They  are  not  decisive,  you  yourself  have  told  me  so." 

"  That  is  true,  sir ;  and  yet  they  convinced  me,  who  have 
an  interest  in  not  being  convinced.  Besides,  if  he  needs 
witnesses,  he  will  find  them." 

"  Who?     Yourself,  viscount  ?  " 

"Yourself,  sir.  The  day  when  he  wishes  it,  you  will 
betray  us.  Suppose  you  were  summoned  before  a  tribu- 
nal, and  that  there,  under  oath,  you  should  be  required  to 
speak  the  truth,  what  answer  would  you  make  ? " 

M.  de  Commarin's  face  darkened  at  this  very  natural 
supposition.  He  hesitated,  he  whose  honour  was  usually 
so  great.  "  I  would  save  the  name  of  my  ancestors,"  he 
said  at  last. 

Albert  shook  his  head  doubtfully.  "  At  the  price  of  a  lie, 
my  father,"  he  said.  "  I  never  will  believe  it.  But  let  us 
suppose  even  that.  He  will  then  call  Madame  Gerdy." 

"  Oh,  I  will  answer  for  her ! "  cried  the  count,  "  her  inter- 
ests are  the  same  as  ours.  If  necessary,  I  will  see  her. 
Yes,"  he  added  with  an  effort,  "  I  will  call  on  her,  I  will 


THE  LEROUGE  CASE.  135 

speak  to  her;  and  I  will  guarantee  that  she  will  not  be- 
tray us." 

"  And  Claudine,"  continued  the  young  man  ;  "  will  she 
be  silent,  too  ?  " 

"  For  money,  yes ;  and  I  will  give  her  whatever  she 
asks." 

"And  you  would  trust,  father,  to  a  paid  silence,  as  if 
one  could  ever  be  sure  of  a  purchased  conscience  ?  What 
is  sold  to  you  may  be  sold  to  another.  A  certain  sum 
may  close  her  mouth ;  a  larger  will  open  it." 

"  I  will  frighten  her." 

"  You  forget,  father,  that  Claudine  Lerouge  was  Noel 
Gerdy's  nurse,  that  she  takes  an  interest  in  his  happiness, 
that  she  loves  him.  How  do  you  know  that  he  has  not 
already  secured  her  aid  ?  She  lives  at  Bougival.  I  went 
there,  I  remember,  with  you.  No  doubt,  he  sees  her  often  ; 
perhaps  it  is  she  who  put  him  on  the  track  of  this  corres- 
pondence. He  spoke  to  me  of  her,  as  though  he  were 
sure  of  her  testimony.  He  almost  proposed  my 'going  to 
her  for  information." 

"Alas!"  cried  the  count,  "why  is  not  Claudine  dead 
instead  of  my  faithful  Germain  ?  " 

"You  see,  sir,"  concluded  Albert,  "Claudine  Lerouge 
would  alone  render  all  your  efforts  useless." 

"  Ah,  no !  "  cried  the  count ;  "  I  shall  find  some  expe- 
dient." The  obstinate  old  gentleman  was  not  willing  to 
give  in  to  this  argument,  the  very  clearness  of  which  blinded 
him.  The  pride  of  his  blood  paralyzed  his  usual  practical 
good  sense.  To  acknowledge  that  he  was  conquered  humil- 
iated him,  and  seemed  to  him  unworthy  of  himself.  He  did 
not  remember  to  have  met  during  his  long  career  an  invinci- 
ble resistance  or  an  absolute  impediment.  He  was  like 
all  men  of  imagination,  who  fall  in  love  with  their  projects, 
and  who  expect  them  to  succeed  on  all  occasions,  as  if 
wishing  hard  was  all  that  was  necessary  to  change  their 
dreams  into  realities." 

Albert  this  time  broke  the  silence,  which  threatened  to 
be  prolonged.  "  I  see,  sir,"  he  said, "  that  you  fear,  above 
all  things,  the  publicity  of  this  sad  history;  the  possible 
scandal  renders  you  desperate.  But,  unless  we  yield,  the 
scandal  will  be  terrible.  There  will  be  a  trial  which  will 
be  the  talk  of  all  Europe.  The  newspapers  will  print  the 
facts,  accompanied  by  heavens  knows  what  comments  of 


136  THE  LEROUCE  CASE. 

their  own.  Our  name,  however  the  trial  results,  will 
appear  in  all  the  papers  of  the  world.  This  might  be 
borne,  if  we  were  sure  of  succeeding ;  but  we  are  bound 
to  lose,  my  father,  we  shall  lose.  Then  think  of  the 
exposure !  think  of  the  dishonor  branded  upon  us  by  pub- 
lic opinion." 

"  I  think,"  said  the  count,  "  that  you  can  have  neither 
respect  nor  affection  for  me,  when  you  speak  in  that 
way." 

"  It  is  my  duty,  sir,  to  point  out  to  you  the  evils  I  see 
threatening,  and  which  there  is  yet  time  to  shun.  M.  Noel 
Gerdy  is  your  legitimate  son,  recognize  him,  acknowledge 
his  just  pretensions,  and  receive  him.  We  can  make  the 
change  very  quietly.  It  is  easy  to  account  for  it,  through 
a  mistake  of  the  nurse,  Claudine  Lerouge,  for  instance. 
All  parties  being  agreeable,  there  can  be  no  trouble  about 
it.  What  is  to  prevent  the  new  Viscount  de  Commarin 
from  quitting  Paris,  and  disappearing  for  a  time  ?  He 
might  travel  about  Europe  for  four  or  five  years ;  by  the 
end  of  that  time,  all  will  be  forgotten,  and  no  one  will 
remember  me." 

M.  de  Commarin  was  not  listening ;  he  was  deep  in 
thought.  "  But  instead  of  contesting,  viscount,"  he  cried, 
"  we  might  compromise.  We  may  be  able  to  purchase 
these  letters.  What  does  this  young  fellow  want  ?  A 
position  and  a  fortune  ?  I  will  give  him  both.  I  will 
make  him  as  rich  as  he  can  wish.  I  will  give  him  a  mil- 
lion ;  if  need  be,  two,  three, — half  of  all  I  possess.  With 
money,  you  see,  much  money — " 

"  Spare  him,  sir  ;  he  is  your  son." 

"  Unfortunately !  and  I  wish  him  to  the  devil !  I  will 
see  him,  and  he  will  agree  to  what  I  wish.  I  will  prove  to 
him  the  bad  policy  of  the  earthen  pot  struggling  with  the 
iron  kettle ;  and,  if  he  is  not  a  fool,  he  will  understand. 
The  count  rubbed  his  hands  while  speaking.  He  was 
delighted  with  this  brilliant  plan  of  negotiation.  It  could 
not  fail  to  result  favorably.  A  crowd  of  arguments 
occurred  to  his  mind  in  support  of  it.  He  would  buy 
back  again  his  lost  rest. 

But  Albert  did  not  seem  to  share  his  father's  hopes. 
"  You  will  perhaps  think  it  unkind  in  me,  sir,"  said  he, 
sadly,  "  to  dispel  this  last  illusion  of  yours  ;  but  I  must. 
Do  not  delude  yourself  with  the  idea  of  an  amicable 


THE  LEROUGE  CASE.  13-, 

arrangement ;  the  awakening  will  only  be  the  more  pain- 
ful. I  have  seen  M.  Gerdy,  my  father,  and  he  is  not  one, 
I  assure  you,  to  be  intimidated.  If  there  is  an  energetic 
will  in  the  world,  it  is  his.  He  is  truly  your  son  ;  and  his 
expression,  like  yours,  shows  an  iron  resolution,  that  may 
be  broken  but  never  bent.  I  can  still  hear  his  voice 
trembling  with  resentment,  while  he  spoke  to  me.  I  can 
still  see  the  dark  fire  of  his  eyes.  No,  he  will  never 
accept  a  compromise.  He  will  have  all  or  nothing ;  and 
I  cannot  say  that  he  is  wrong.  If  you  resist,  he  will 
attack  you  without  the  slightest  consideration.  Strong  in 
his  rights,  he  will  cling  to  you  with  stubborn  animosity. 
He  will  drag  you  from  court  to  court;  he  will  not  stop 
short  of  utter  defeat  or  complete  triumph." 

Accustomed  to  absolute  obedience  from  his  son,  the  old 
nobleman  was  astounded  at  this  unexpected  obstinacy. 
"  What  is  your  object  in  saying  all  this  ? "  he  aske  d. 

"  It  is  this,  sir.  I  should  utterly  despise  myself,  if  I  did 
not  spare  your  old  age  this  greatest  of  calamities.  Your 
name  does  not  belong  to  me ;  I  will  take  my  own.  I  am 
your  natural  son  ;  I  will  give  up  my  place  to  your  legit- 
imate son.  Permit  me  to  withdraw  with  at  least  the  honor 
of  having  freely  done  my  duty.  Do  not  force  me  to  wait 
till  I  am  driven  out  in  disgrace." 

"  What !  "  cried  the  count,  stunned,  "you  will  abandon 
me  ?  You  refuse  to  help  me,  you  turn  against  me,  you 
recognize  the  rights  of  this  man  in  spite  of  my  wishes  ? " 

Albert  bowed  his  head.  He  was  much  moved,  but  still 
remained  firm.  "  My  resolution  is  irrevocably  taken,"  he 
replied.  "  I  can  never  consent  to  despoil  your  son." 

"  Cruel,  ungrateful  boy  !  "  cried  M.  de  Commarin.  His 
wrath  was  such,  that,  when  he  found  he  could  do  nothing  by 
abuse,  he  passed  at  once  to  jeering.  "  But  no,"  he  con- 
tinued, "  you  are  great,  you  are  noble,  you  are  generous  ; 
you  are  acting  after  the  most  approved  pattern  of  chivalry, 
viscount,  I  should  say,  my  dear  M.  Gerdy  ;  after  the 
fashion  of  Plutarch's  time  !  So  you  give  up  my  name 
and  my  fortune,  and  you  leave  me.  You  will  shake  the 
dust  from  your  shoes  uponx  the  threshold  of  my  house, 
and  you  will  go  out  into  the  world.  I  see  only  one  diffi- 
culty in  your  way.  How  do  you  expect  to  live,  my  stoic 
philosopher  ?  Have  you  a  trade  at  your  fingers'  ends,  like 
Jean  Jacques  Rousseau's  Emile  ?  Or,  worthy  M.  Gercl1 . 


/j8  THE  LEKOUGE  CASE. 

have  you  learned  economy  from  the  four  thousand  francs 
a  month  I  allow  you  for  waxing  your  moustache  ?  Per- 
haps you  have  made  money  on  the  Bourse  !  Then  my 
name  must  have  seemed  very  burdensome  to  you  to  bear, 
since  you  so  eagerly  introduced  it  into  such  a  place ! 
Has  dirt,  then,  so  great  an  attraction  for  you  that  you 
must  jump  from  your  carriage  so  quickly  ?  Say,  rather, 
that  the  company  of  my  friends  embarrasses  you,  and 
that  you  are  anxious  to  go  where  you  will  be  among  your 
own  equals." 

"  I  am  very  wretched,  sir,"  replied  Albert  to  this  ava- 
lanche of  insults,  "  and  you  would  crush  me  !  " 

"  You  wretched  !  Well,  whose  fault  is  it  ?  But  let  us 
get  back  to  my  question.  How  and  on  what  will  you 
live?" 

"  I  am  not  so  romantic  as  you  are  pleased  to  say,  sir. 
I  must  confess  that,  as  regards  the  future,  I  have  counted 
upon  your  kindness.  You  are  so  rich,  that  five  hundred 
thousand  francs  would  not  materially  affect  your  fortune  ; 
and,  on  the  interest  of  that  sum,  I  could  live  quietly,  if 
not  happily." 

"  And  suppose  I  refuse  you  this  money  ?  " 

"  I  know  vou  well  enough,  sir,  to  feel  sure  that  you 
will  not  do  so.  You  are  too  just  to  wish  that  I  alone 
should  expiate  wrongs  that  are  not  of  my  making.  Left 
to  myself,  I  should  at  my  present  age  have  achieved  a  po- 
sition. It  is  late  for  me  to  try  and  make  one  now ;  but  I 
will  do  my  best." 

"  Superb  !  "  interrupted  the  count ;  "  you  are  really  su- 
perb !  One  never  heard  of  such  a  hero  of  romance. 
What  a  character !  But  tell  me,  what  do  you  expect  from 
all  this  astonishing  disinterestedness  ?  " 

"  Nothing,  sir." 

The  count  shrugged  his  shoulders,  looked  sarcastically 
at  his  son,  and  observed  :  "  The  compensation  is  very 
slight.  And  you  expect  me  to  believe  all  this  !  No,  sir, 
mankind  is  not  in  the  habit  of  indulging  in  such  fine 
actions  .for  its  pleasure  alone.  You  must  have  some 
reason  for  acting  so  grandly;  some  reason  which  I  fail 
to  see." 

"  None  but  what  I  have  already  told  you." 

"  Therefore  it  is  understood  you  intend  to  relinquish 
everything ;  you  will  even  abandon  your  proposed  union 


THE  LE ROUGE  CASE.  139 

with  Mademoiselle  Claire  d'Arlange  ?  You  forget  that 
for  two  years  I  have  in  vain  constantly  expressed  my 
disappointment  of  this  marriage." 

"  No,  sir.  I  have  seen  Mademoiselle  Claire ;  I  have 
explained  my  unhappy  position  to  her.  Whatever  hap- 
pens, she  has  sworn  to  be  my  wife." 

"And  do  you  think  that  Madame  d'Arlange  will  give 
her  grand-daughter  to  M.  Gerdy  ?  " 

"  We  hope  so,  sir.  The  marchioness  is  sufficently  in- 
fected with  aristocratic  ideas  to  prefer  a  nobleman's 
bastard  to  the  son  of  some  honest  tradesman  ;  but  should 
she  refuse,  we  would  await  her  death,  though  without  de- 
siring it." 

The  calm  manner  in  which  Albert  said  this  enraged 
the  count.  "  Can  this  be  my  son  ?  "  he  cried.  "  Never  ! 
What  blood  have  you  then  in  your  veins,  sir  ?  Your  wor- 
thy mother  alone  might  tell  us,  provided,  however,  she 
herself  knows." 

"  Sir,"  cried  Albert  menacingly,  "  think  well  before  you 
speak  !  She  is  my  mother,  and  that  is  sufficient.  I  am 
her  son,  not  her  judge.  No  one  shall  insult  her  in  my 
presence,  I  will  not  permit  it,  sir ;  and  I  will  suffer  it  least 
of  all  from  you." 

The  count  made  great  efforts  to  keep  his  anger  within 
bounds;  but  Albert's  behavior  thoroughly  enraged  him. 
What,  his  son  rebelled,  he  dared  to  brave  him  to  his  face, 
he  threatened  him  !  The  old  fellow  jumped  from  his  chair, 
and  moved  towards  the  young  man  as  if  he  would  strike 
him.  "  Leave  the  room,"  he  cried,  in  a  voice  choking 
with  rage,  "  leave  the  room  instantly  !  Retire  to  your  apart- 
ments, and  take  care  not  to  leave  them  without  my  orders. 
To-morrow  I  will  let  you  know  my  decision." 

Albert  bowed  respectfully,  but  without  lowering  his  eyes 
and  walked  slowly  to  the  door.  He  had  already  opened 
it,  when  M.  de  Commarin  experienced  one  of  those  revul- 
sions of  feeling,  so  frequent  in  violent  natures.  "  Albert," 
said  he,  "  come  here  and  listen  to  me."  The  young  man 
turned  back,  much  affected  by  this  change.  "  Do  not  go," 
continued  the  count,  "  until  I  have  told  you  what  I  think. 
You  are  worthy  of  being  the  heir  of  a  great  house,  sir.  I 
may  be  angry  with  you  ;  but  I  can  never  lose  my  esteem 
for  you.  You  are  a  noble  man,  Albert.  Give  me  youi 
hand." 


140  .  TJIK  LE ROUGE  CASE. 

It  was  a  happy  moment  for  these  two  men,  and  such  a 
one  as  they  had  scarcely  ever  experienced  in  their  lives, 
restrained  as  they  had  been  by  cold  etiquette.  The  count 
felt  proud  of  his  son,  and  recognised  in  him  himself  at 
that  age.  For  a  long  time  their  hands  remained  clasped, 
without  either  being  able  to  utter  a  word.  At  last,  M.  de 
Commarin  resumed  his  seat.  "  I  must  ask  you  to  leave 
me,  Albert,"  he  said  kindly.  "  I  must  be  alone  to  reflect, 
to  try  and  accustom  myself  to  this  terrible  blow."  And, 
as  the  young  man  closed  the  door,  he  added,  as  if  giving 
vent  to  his  inmost  thoughts,  "  If  he,  in  whom  I  have  placed 
all  my  hope,  deserts  me,  what  will  become  of  me  ?  And 
what  will  the  other  one  be  like  ? " 

On  leaving  M.  de  Commarin,  and  while  slowly  mounting 
the  stairs  which  led  to  his  'apartments,  Albert's  thoughts 
reverted  to  Claire.  What  was  she  doing  at  that  moment  ? 
Thinking  of  him  no  doubt.  She  knew  that  the  crisis  would 
come  that  very  evening,  or  the  next  day  at  the  latest. 
She  was  probably  praying.  Albert  was  thoroughly  ex- 
hausted ;  his  head  felt  dizzy,  and  seemed  ready  to  burst. 
He  rang  for  his  servant,  and  ordered  some  tea. 

"  You  do  wrong  in  not  sending  for  the  doctor,  sir,"  said 
Lubin,  his  valet.  "  I  ought  to  disobey  you,  and,  send  for 
him  myself." 

"  It  would  be  useless,"  replied  Albert  sadly  ;  "  he  could 
do  nothing  for  me."  As  the  valet  was  leaving  the  room, 
he  added, — "  Say  nothing  about  my  being  unwell  to  any 
one,  Lubin  ;  it  is  nothing  at  all.  If  I  should  feel  worse,  I 
will  ring." 

At  that  moment,  to  see  any  one,  to  hear  a  voice,  to  have 
to  reply,  was  more  than  he  could  bear.  He  longed  to  be 
left  entirely  to  himself.  After  the  painful  emotions  arising 
from  his  explanations  with  the  count,  he  could  not  sleep. 
He  opened  one  of  the  library  windows,  and  looked  out. 
It  was  a  beautiful  night :  and  there  was  a  lovely  moon. 
Seen  at  this  hour,  by  the  mild,  tremulous  evening  light, 
the  gardens  attached  to  the  mansion  seemed  twice  their 
usual  size.  The  moving  tops  of  the  great  trees  stretched 
away  like  an  immense  plain,  hiding  the  neighbouring 
houses  ;  the  flower-beds,  set  off  by  the  green  shrubs, 
looked  like  great  black  patches,  while  particles  of  shell, 
tiny  pieces  of  glass,  and  shining  pebbles  sparkled  in  the 
carefully  kept  walks.  The  horses  stamped  in  the  stable  ' 


THE  LEROUGE  CASE.  i.|i 

and  the  rattling  of  their  halter  chains  against  the  bars  of 
the  manger  could  be  distinctly  heard.  In  the  coach-house 
the  men  were  putting  away  for  the  night  the  carriage,  al- 
ways kept  ready  throughout  the  evening,  in  case  the  count 
should  wish  to  go  out.  Albert  was  reminded  by  these  sur- 
roundings, of  the  magnificence  of  his  past  life.  He  sighed 
deeply.  "  Must  I,  then,  lose  all  this  ?  "  he  murmured.  "  I 
can  scarcely,  even  for  myself,  abandon  so  much  splendour 
without  regret ;  and  thinking  of  Claire  makes  it  hard  in- 
deed. Have  I  not  dreamed  of  a  life  of  exceptional  happi- 
ness for  her,  a  result  almost  impossible  to  realise  without 
wealth?"  Midnight  sounded  from  the  neighbouring 
church  of  St.  Clotilde,  and  as  the  night  was  chilly,  he 
closed  the  window,  and  sat  down  near  the  fire,  which  he 
stirred.  In  the  hope  of  obtaining  a  respite  from  his 
thoughts,  he  took  up  the  evening  paper,  in  which  was  an 
account  of  the  assassination  at  La  Jonchere  ;  b-ut  he  found 
il  impossible  to  read:  the  lines  danced  before  his  eyes. 
Then  he  thought  of  writing  to  Claire.  He  sat  down  at  his 
desk,  and  wrote,  "  My  dearly  loved  Claire,"  but  he  could 
go  no  further  ;  his  distracted  brain  could  not  furnish  him 
with  a  single  sentence.  At  last,  at  break  of  day,  he  threw 
himself  on  to  a  sofa,  and  fell  into  a  heavy  sleep. 

At  half-past  nine  in  the  morning,  he  was  suddenly 
awakened,  by  the  noise  of  the  door  being  hastily  opened. 
A  servant  entered,  with  a  scared  look  on  his  face,  and  so 
out  of  breath  from  having  come  up  the  stairs  four  at  a 
time,  that  he  could  scarcely  speak.  "  Sir,"  said  he, 
"  viscount,  be  quick,  fly  and  hide,  save  yourself,  they  a»e 
here,  it  is  the — " 

A  commissary  of  police,  wearing  his  sash,  appeared  at  the 
door.  He  was  followed  by  a  number  of  men,  among  whom 
M.  Tabaret  could  be  seen,  keeping  as  much  out  of  sight  as 
possible.  The  commissary  approached  Albert.  "  You  are," 
he  asked,  "  Guy  Louis  Marie  Albert  cle  Rheteau  de  Com- 
marin  ?  " 
"Yes,  sir." 

The  commissary  placed  his  hand-  upon  him  while  pro- 
nouncing the  usual  formula  :  "  M.  de  Commarin,  in  the 
name  of  the  law  I  arrest  you." 
"  Me,  sir  ?  me  ? " 

Albert,  aroused  suddenly  from  his  painful  dreams, 
seemed  hardly  to  comprehend  what  was  taking  place.  He 


142  THE  LE ROUGE  CASE. 

seemed  to  ask  himself, — "  Am  I  really  awake  ?  Is  not 
this  some  hideous  nightmare  ?  " 

He  threw  a  stupid,  astonished  look  upon  the  commissar}1 
of  police,  his  men,  and  M.  Tabaret,  who  had  not  taken  his 
eyes  off  him. 

"  Here  is  the  warrant,"  added  the  commissary,  unfolding 
the  paper. 

Mechanically  Albert  glanced  over  it.  "  Claudine 
assassinated  !  "  he  cried.  Then  very  low,  but  distinct 
enough  to  be  heard  by  the  commissary,  by  one  of  his  offi- 
cers, and  by  old  Tabaret,  he  added, — "  I  am  lost ! " 

While  the  commissary  was  making  inquiries,  which  im- 
mediately follow  all  arrests,  the  police  officers  spread 
through  the  apartments,  and  proceeded  to  a  searching  ex- 
amination of  them.  They  had  received  orders  to  obey  M. 
Tabaret,  and  the  old  fellow  guided  them  in  their  search, 
made  them  ransack  drawers  and  closets,  and  move  the 
furniture  to  look  underneath  or  behind.  They  seized  a 
number  of  articles  belonging  to  the  viscount, — documents, 
manuscripts,  and  a  very  voluminous  correspondence  ;  but 
it  was  with  especial  delight  that  M.  Tabaret  put  his  hands 
on  certain  articles,  which  were  carefully  described  in  their 
proper  order  in  the  official  report :  i.  In  the  ante-room, 
hung  with  all  sorts  of  weapons,  a  broken  foil  was  found 
behind  a  sofa.  This  foil  has  a  peculiar  handle,  and  is 
unlike  those  commonly  sold.  It  is  ornamented  with  the 
count's  coronet,  and  the  initials  A.  C.  It  has  been  broken 
at  about  the  middle ;  and  the  end  cannot  be  found. 
When  questioned,  the  viscount  declared  that  he  did  not 
know  what  had  become  of  the  missing  end.  2.  In  the 
dressing-room,  a  pair  of  black  cloth  trousers  was  discovered 
still  damp,  and  bearing  stains  of  mud  or  rather  of  mould. 
All  one  side  is  smeared  with  greenish  moss,  like  that  which 
grows  on  walls.  On  the  front  are  numerous  rents ;  and 
one  near  the  knee  is  about  four  inches  long.  These 
trousers  had  not  been  hung  up  with  the  other  clothes  ;-but 
appear  to  have  been  hidden  between  two  large  trunks  full 
of  clothing.  3.  In  the  pocket  of  the  above  mentioned 
trousers  was  found  a  pair  of  lavender  kid  gloves.  The 
palm  of  the  right  hand  glove  bears  a  large  greenish  stain, 
produced  by  grass  or  moss.  The  tips  of  the  fingers  have 
been  worn  as  if  by  rubbing.  Upon  the  backs  of  both 
gloves  are  some  scratches,  apparently  made  by  finger-nails. 


THE  LE ROUGE  CASE.  143 

4.  There  were  also  found  in  the  dressing-room  two  pairs 
of  boots,  one  of  which,  though  clean  and  polished,  was 
still  very  damp  ;  and  an  umbrella  recently  wetted,  the  end 
of  which  was  still  covered  with  a  light  coloured  mud.  5. 
In  a  large  room,  called  the  library,  were  found  a  box  of  ci- 
gars of  the  trabucos  brand,  and  on  the  mantel-shelf  a  num- 
ber of  cigar-holders  in  amber  and  meerschaum. 

The  last  article  noted  down,  M.  Tabaret  approached  the 
commissary  of  police.  "  I  have  everything  I  could  desire," 
he  whispered. 

"  And  I  have  finished,"  replied  the  commissary.  "  Our 
prisoner  does  not  appear  to  know  exactly  how  to  act. 
You  heard  what  he  said.  He  gave  in  at  once.  I  suppose 
you  will  call  it  lack  of  experience." 

"  In  the  middle  of  the  day,"  replied  the  amateur  detec- 
tive in  a  whisper,  "  he  would  not  have  been  quite  so  crest- 
fallen. But  early  in  the  morning,  suddenly  awakened,  you 
know —  Always  arrest  a  person  early  in  the  morning, 
when  he's  hungry,  and  only  half  awake." 

"  I  have  questioned  some  of  the  servants.  Their  evi- 
dence is  rather  peculiar." 

"  Very  well ;  we  shall  see.  But  I  must  hurry  off  and 
find  the  investigating  magistrate,  who  is  impatiently  expect- 
ing me." 

Albert  was  beginning  to  recover  a  little  from  the  stupor 
into  which  he  had  been  plunged  by  the  entrance  of  the 
commissary  of  police. 

"  Sir,"  he  asked,  "  will  you  permit  me  to  say  a  few  words 
in  your  presence  to  the  Count  de  Commarin  ?  I  am  the 
victim  of  some  mistake,  which  will  be  very  soon  discov- 
ered." 

"  It's  always  a  mistake,"  muttered  old  Tabaret. 

"  What  you  ask  is  impossible,"  replied  the  commissary. 
"  I  have  special  orders  of  the  strictest  sort.  You  must 
not  henceforth  communicate  with  a  living  soul.  A  cab  is 
in  waiting  below.  Have  the  goodness  to  accompany  me 
to  it." 

In  crossing  the  vestibule,  Albert  noticed  a  great  stir 
among  the  servants ;  they  all  seemed  to  have  lost  their 
senses.  M.  Denis  gave  some  orders  in  a  sharp,  imperative 
tone.  Then  he  thought  he  heard  that  the  Count  de  Com 
marin  had  been  struck  down  with  apoplexy.  After  that,  he 
remembered  nothing.  They  almost  carried  him  to  the  cab, 


144  THK  I.KROUCK  CASK. 

which  drove  off  as  fast  as  the  two  little  horses  could  go. 
M.  Tabaret  had  just  hastened  away  in  a  more  rapid 
vehicle. 

X. 

M.  DABURON  had  arrived  at  his  office  in  the  Palais  de 
Justice  at  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  was  waiting. 
His  course  resolved  upon,  he  had  not  lost  an  instant,  un- 
derstanding as  well  as  old  Tabaret  the  necessity  for  rapid 
action.  He  had  already  had  an  interview  with  the  public 
prosecutor,  and  had  arranged  everything  with  the  police. 
Besides  issuing  the  warrant  against  Albert,  he  had  sum- 
moned the  Count  de  Commarin,  Madame  Gerdy,  Noel, 
and  some  of  Albert's  servants,  to  appear  before  him  with 
as  little  delay  as  possible.  He  thought  it  essential  to  ques- 
tion all  these  persons  before  examining  the  prisoner. 
Several  detectives  had  started  off  to  execute  his  orders, 
and  he  himself  sat  in  his  office,  like  a  general  command- 
ing an  army,  who  sends  off  his  aid-de-camp  to  begin  the 
battle,  and  who  hopes  that  victory  will  crown  his  combina- 
tions. Often,  at  this  same  hour,  he  had  sat  in  this  office, 
under  circumstances  almost  identical.  A  crime  had  been 
committed,  and,  believing  he  had  discovered  the  criminal, 
he  had  given  orders  for  his  arrest.  Was  not  that  his  duty  ? 
But  he  had  never  before  experienced  the  anxiety  of  mind 
which  disturbed  him  now.  Many  a  time  had  he  issued 
warrants  of  arrest,  without  possessing  even  half  the  proofs 
which  guided  him  in  the  present  case.  He  kept  repeat- 
ing this  to  himself ;  and  yet  he  could  not  quiet  his  dread- 
ful anxiety,  which  would  not  allow  him  a  moment's  rest. 

He  wondered  why  his  people  were  so  long  in  making 
their  appearance.  He  walked  up  and  down  the  room, 
counting  the  minutes,  drawing  out  his  watch  three  times 
within  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  to  compare  it  with  the  clock. 
Every  time  he  heard  a  step  in  the  passage,  almost  deserted 
at  that  hour,  he  moved  near  the  door,  stopped  and  listened. 
At  length  some  one  knocked.  It  was  his  clerk,  whom  he 
had  sent  for.  There  was  nothing  particular  in  this  man  , 
he  was  tall  rather  than  big,  and  very  slim.  His  gait  was 
precise,  his  gestures  were  methodical,  and  his  face  was  as 
impassive  as  if  it  had  been  cut  out  of  a  piece  of  yellow 
wood.  He  was  thirty-four  years  of  age,  and  during  thir- 


THE  LEKOUGE  CASE.  14$ 

teen  years  had  acted  as  clerk  to  four  investigating  magis- 
trates in  succession.  He  could  hear  the  most  astonishing 
things  without  moving  a  muscle.  His  name  was  Constant. 
He  bowed  to  the  magistrate,  and  excused  himself  for  his 
tardiness.  He  had  been  busy  with  some  book-keeping, 
which  he  did  every  morning  ;  and  his  wife  had  had  to  send 
after  him. 

"You  are  still  in  good  time,"  said  M.  Daburon:  "but 
we  shall  soon  have  plenty  of  work  :  so  you  had  better  get 
your  paper  ready." 

Five  minutes  later,  the  usher  introduced  M,  Noel  Gerdy. 
He  entered  with  an  easy  manner,  like  a  barrister  who  was 
well  acquainted  with  the  Palais,  and  who  knew  its  winding 
ways.  He  in  no  wise  resembled,  this  morning,  old  Taba- 
ret's  friend ;  still  less  could  he  have  been  recognized  as 
Madame  Juliette's  lover.  He  was  entirely  another  being, 
or  rather  he  had  resumed  his  eveiy-day  bearing.  From  his 
firm  step,  his  placid  face,  one  would  never  imagined  that, 
after  an  evening  of  emotion  and  excitement,  after  a  secret 
visit  to  his  mistress,  he  had  passed  the  night  by  the  pillow 
of  a  dying  woman,  and  that  woman  his  mother,  or  at  least 
one  who  had  filled  his  mother's  place.  What  a  contrast 
between  him  and  the  magistrate  !  M.  Daburon  had  not 
slept  either  :  but  one  could  easily  see  that  in  his  feebleness, 
in  his  anxious  look,  in,  the  dark  circles  about  his  eyes. 
His  shirt-front  was  all  rumpled,  and  his  cuffs  were  far 
from  clean.  Carried  away  by  the  course  of  events,  the 
mind  had  forgotten  the  body.  NoeFs  well-shaved  chin,  on 
the  contrary,  rested  upon  an  irreproachably  white  cravat ; 
his  collar  did  not  show  a  crease  ;  his  hair  and  his  whiskers 
had  been  most  carefully  brushed.  He  bowed  tc  M.  Dabu- 
ron, and  held  out  the  summons  he  had  received.  "  You 
summoned  me,  sir,"  he  said ;  "  and  I  am  here  awaiting 
your  orders." 

The  investigating  magistrate  had  met  the  young  barris- 
ter several  times  in  the  lobbies  of  the  Palais  ,  and  he  knew 
him  well  by  sight.  He  remembered  having  heard  M. 
Gerdy  spoken  of  as  a  man  of  talent  and  promise,  whose 
reputation  was  fast  rising.  He  therefore  welcomed  him 
as  a  fellow-workman,  and  invited  him  to  be  seated.  The 
preliminaries  common  in  the  examinations  of  all  witnesses 
ended  ;  the  name,  surname,  age,  place  of  business,  and  so  on 
having  been  written  down,  the  magistrate,  who  had  follow 

10 


146  THE  LEROUUE  CASE. 

ed  his  clerk  with  his  eyes  while  he .  was.  writing,  turned 
towards  Noel.  "  I  presume  you  know,  M.  Gerdy,"  he 
began,  "  the  matters  in  connection  with  which  you  are 
troubled  with  appearing  before  me  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  the  murder  of  that  poor  old  woman  at  La 
Jonchere." 

"  Precisely,"  replied  M.  Daburon.  Then,  calling  to 
mind  his  promise  to  old  Tabaret,  he  added,  "  If  justice  has 
summoned  you  so  promptly,  it  is  because  we  have  found 
your  name  often  mentioned  in  Widow  Lerouge's  papers." 

"  I  am  not  surprised  at  that,"  replied  the  barrister  :  "  we 
were  greatly  interested  in  that  poor  woman,  who  was  my 
nurse  ;  and  I  know  that  Madame  Gerdy  wrote  to  her  fre- 
quently." 

"  Very  well ;  then  you  can  give  ,m«  some  information 
about  her." 

"  I  fear,  sir,  that  it  will  be  very  incomplete.  I  know 
very  little  about  this  poor  old  Madame  Lerouge.  I  was 
taken  from  her  at  a  very  early  age  ;  and,  since  I  have 
been  a  man,  I  have  thought  but  little  about  her,  except  to 
send  her  occasionally  a  little  aid." 

"  You  never  went  to  visit  her  ? " 

"  Excuse  me.  I  have  gone  there  to  see  her  many  times ; 
but  I  remained  only  a  few  minutes.  Madame  Gerdy,  who 
has  often  seen  her,  and  to  whom  she  talked  of  all  her  af- 
fairs, could  have  enlightened  you  much  better  than  I." 

"  But,"  said  the  magistrate,  "  I  expect  shortly  to  see 
Madame  Gerdy  here  ;  she,  too,  must  have  received  a  sum- 
mons." 

"  I  know  it,  sir,  but  it  is  impossible  for  her  to  appear  : 
she  is  ill  in  bed." 

"  Seriously  ? " 

"  So  seriously  that  you  will  be  obliged,  I  think,  to  give  up 
all  hope  of  her  testimony.  She  is  attacked  with  a  disease 
which,  m  the  words  of  my  friend,  Dr.  Herve,  never  for- 
gives.  It  is  something  like  inflammation  of  the  brain,  if  I 
am  not  mistaken.  It  may  be  that  her  life  will  be  saved; 
but  she  will  never  recover  her  reason.  If  she  does  not 
die,  she  will  be  insane." 

M  Daburon  appeared  greatly  xrexed.  "  This  is  very 
annoying,"  he  muttered.  "  And  you  think,  my  dear  sir, 
that  it  will  be  impossible  to  obtain  any  information  from 
her?" 


THE  LE ROUGE  CASE.  147 

"  It  is  useless  even  to  hope  for  it.  She  has  completely 
lost  her  reason.  She  was,  when  I  left  her,  in  such  a  state 
of  utter  prostration  that  I  fear  she  can  not  live  through  the 
day." 

"  And  when  was  she  attacked  by  this  illness  ?  " 

"  Yesterday  evening." 

"  Suddenly'? " 

"  Yes,  sir ;  at  least,  apparently  so,  though  I  myself  think 
she  has  been  unwell  for  the  last  three  weeks  at  least. 
Yesterday,  however,  on  rising  from  dinner,after  having  eaten 
but  little,  she  took  up  a  newspaper ;  and,  by  a  most  unfortu- 
nate hazard,  her  eyes  fell  exactly  upon  the  lines  which 
gave  an  account  of  this  crime.  She  at  once  uttered  a 
loud  cry,  fell  back  in  her  chair,  and  thence  slipped  to  the 
floor,  murmuring,  '  Oh,  the  unhappy  man,  the  unhappy 
man  !  " 

"The  unhappy  woman,  you  mean." 

"  No,  sir.  She  uttered  the  words  I  have  just  repeated. 
Evidently  the  exclamation  did  not  refer  to  my  poor  nurse." 

Upon  this  reply,  so  important  and  yet  made  in  the  most 
unconscious  tone,  M.  Daburon  raised  his  eyes  to  the  wit- 
ness. The  barrister  lowered  his  head.  "  And  then  ?  " 
asked  the  magistrate,  after  a  moment's  silence,  during 
which  he  had  taken  a  few  notes. 

"  Those  words,  sir,  were  the  last  spoken  by  Madame 
Gerdy.  Assisted  by  our  servant,  I  carried  her  to  her  bed. 
The  doctor  was  sent  for ;  and,  since  then,  she  has  not  re- 
covered consciousness.  The  doctor — " 

"  It  is  well,"  interrupted  M.  Daburon.  "  Let  us  leave 
that  for  the  present.  Do  you  know,  sir,  whether  Widow 
Lerouge  had  any  enemies  ?  " 

"  None  that  I  know  of,  sir." 

"  She  had  no  enemies?  Well, now  tell  me,  does  there 
exist  to  your  knowledge  any  one  having  the  least  interest 
in  the  death  of  this  poor  woman  ?  " 

As  he  asked  this  question  the  investigating  magistrate 
kept  his  eyes  fixed  on  Noel's,  not  wishing  him  to  turn  or 
lower  his  head.  The  barrister  started,  and  seemed  deeply 
moved.  He  was  disconcerted  ;  he  hesitated,  as  if  a  strug- 
gle was  going  on  within  him.  Finally,  in  a  voice  which  was 
by  no  means  firm,  he  replied,  "  No,  no  one." 

"  Is  that  really  true  ?  "  asked  the  magistrate,  looking  at 
him  more  searchingly.  "  You  know  no  one  whom  this 


1 48  THE  LE ROUGE  CASE. 

crime  benefits,  or  whom  it  might  benefit, — absolutely  no 
one  ? " 

"  I  know  only  one  thing,  sir,"  replied  Noel ;  "  and  that  is, 
that,  as  far  as  I  am  concerned,  it  has  caused  me  an  irre- 
parable injury." 

"At  last,"  thought  M. Daburon,  "we  have  got  at  the 
letters ;  and  I  have  not  betrayed  poor  old  Tabaret.  It 
would  be  too  bad  to  cause  the  least  trouble  to  that  zealous 
and  invaluable  man."  He  then  added  aloud:  "An  injury 
to  you,  my  dear  sir  ?  You  will,  I  hope,  explain  yourself." 

Noel's  embarrassment,  of  which  he  had  already  given 
some  signs,  reappeared  much  more  marked.  "  I  am  aware, 
sir,"  he  replied,  "  that  I  owe  justice  not  merely  the  truth, 
but  the  whole  truth ;  but  there  are  circumstances  involved 
so  delicate  that  the  conscience  of  a  man  of  honour  sees 
danger  in  them.  Besides,  it  is  very  hard  to  be  obliged  to 
unveil  such  sad  secrets,  the  revelation  of  which  may  some- 
times— " 

M.  Daburon  interrupted  with  a  gesture.  Noel's  sad 
tone  impressed  him.  Knowing,  beforehand,  what  he  was 
about  to  hear,  he  felt  for  the  young  barrister.  He  turned 
to  his  clerk.  "  Constant !  "  said  he  in  a  peculiar  tone. 
This  was  evidently  a  signal ;  for  the  tall  clerk  rose  method- 
ically, put  his  pen  behind  his  ear,  and  went  out  in  his 
measured  tread. 

Noel  appeared  sensible  of  this  kindness.  His  face  ex- 
pressed the  strongest  gratitude  ;  his  look  returned  thanks. 
"  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you,  sir,"  he  said  with  sup- 
pressed warmth,  "  for  your  considerateness.  What  I  have 
to  say  is  very  painful ;  but  it  will  be  scarcely  an  effort  to 
speak  before  you  now." 

"  Fear  nothing,"  replied  the  magistrate  ;  "  I  will  only 
retain  of  your  deposition,  my  dear  sir,  what  seems  to  me 
absolutely  indispensable." 

"  I  feel  scarcely  master  of  myself,  sir,"  began  Noel ;  "  so 
pray  pardon  my  emotion.  If  any  words  escape  me  that 
seem  charged  with  bitterness,  excuse  them  ;  they  will  be 
involuntary.  Up  to  the  past  few  days,  I  always  believed 
that  I  was  the  offspring  of  illicit  love.  My  history  is  short. 
I  have  been  honourably  ambitious ;  I  have  worked  hard. 
He  who  has  no  name  must  make  one,  you  know.  I  have 
passed  a  quiet  life,  retired  and  austere,  as  people  must, 
who,  starting  at  the  foot  of  the  ladder,  wish  to  reach  the 


THE  LEROUGE  CASE.  149 

top.  I  worshipped  her  whom  I  believed  to  be  my  mother ; 
and  I  felt  convinced  that  she  loved  me  in  return.  The 
stain  of  my  birth  had  some  humiliations  attached  to  it ; 
but  I  despised  them.  Comparing  my  lot  with  that  of  so 
many  others,  I  felt  that  I  had  more  than  common  advan- 
tages. One  day,  Providence  placed  in  my  hands  all  the 
letters  which  my  father,  the  Count  de  Commarin,  had 
written  to  Madame  Gerdy  during  the  time  she  was  his 
mistress.  On  reading  these  letters,  I  was  convinced  that 
I  was  not  what  I  had  hitherto  believed  myself  to  be, — that 
Madame  Gerdy  was  not  my  mother !  " 

And,  without  giving  M.  Daburon  time  to  reply,  he  laid 
before  him  the  facts  which,  twelve  hours  before,  he  had 
related  to  M.  Tabaret.  It  was  the  same  story,  with  the 
same  circumstances,  the  same  abundance  of  precise  and 
conclusive  details ;  but  the  tone  in  which  it  was  told  was 
entirely  changed.  When  speaking  to  the  old  detective, 
the  young  barrister  had  been  emphatic  and  violent;  but 
now,  in  the  presence  of  the  investigating  magistrate,  he 
restrained  his  vehement  emotions.  One  might  imagine 
that  he  adapted  his  style  to  his  auditors,  wishing  to  pro- 
duce the  same  effect  on  both,  and  using  the  method  which 
would  best  accomplish  his  purpose.  To  an  ordinary  mind 
like  M.  Tabaret's  he  used  the  exaggeration  of  anger ;  but 
to  a  man  of  superior  intelligence  like  M.  Daburon,  he  em- 
ployed the  exaggeration  of  restraint.  With  the  detective 
he  had  rebelled  against  his  unjust  lot ;  but  with  the  magis- 
trate he  seemed  to  bow,  full  of  resignation,  before  a  blind 
fatality.  With  genuine  eloquence  and  rare  facility  of  ex- 
pression, he  related  his  feelings  on  the  day  following  the 
discovery, — his  grief,  his  perplexity,  his  doubts.  To  sup- 
port this  moral  certainty,  some  positive  testimony  was 
needed.  Could  he  hope  for  this  from  the  count  or  from 
Madame  Gerdy,  both  interested  in  concealing  the  truth  ? 
No.  But  he  had  counted  upon  that  of  his  nurse, — the 
poor  old  woman  who  loved  him,  and  who,  near  the  close 
of  her  life,  would  be  glad  to  free  her  conscience  from  this 
heavy  load.  She  was  dead  now ;  and  the  letters  became 
mere  waste  paper  in  his  hands.  Then  he  passed  on  to  his 
explanation  with  Madame  Gerdy,  and  he  gave  the  magis- 
trate  even  fuller  details  than  he  had  given  his  old  neigh- 
bour. She  had,  he  said,  at  first  utterly  denied  the  substi- 
tution, but  he  insinuated  that,  plied  with  questions,  and 


150  TlIK  I.  E  ROUGE  CASE. 

overcome  by  the  evidence,  she  had,  in  a  moment  of  despair, 
confessed  all,  declaring,  soon  after,  that  she  would  retract 
and  deny  this  confession,  being  resolved  at  all  hazards 
that  her  son  should  preserve  his  position.  From  this 
scene,  in  the  barrister's  judgment,  might  be  dated  the 
first  attacks  of  the  illness,  to  which  she  was  now  succumb- 
ing. Noel  then  described  his  interview  with  the  Viscount 
de  Commarin.  A  few  inaccuracies  occurred  in  his  narra- 
tive, but  so  slight  that  it  would  have  been  difficult  to 
charge  him  with  them.  Besides,  there  was  nothing  in 
them  at  all  unfavourable  to  Albert.  He  insisted,  on  the 
contrary,  upon  the  excellent  impression  which  that  young 
man  had  made  on  him.  Albert  had  received  the  revelation 
with  a  certain  distrust,  it  is  true,  but  with  a  noble  firmness 
at  the  same  time,  and,  like  a  brave  heart,  was  ready  to 
bow  before  the  justification  of  right.  In  fact,  he  drew  an 
almost  enthusiastic  portrait  of  this  rival,  who  had  not  been 
spoiled  by  prosperity,  who  had  left  him  without  a  look  of 
hatred,  towards  whom  he  felt  himself  drawn,  and  who 
after  all  was  his  brother. 

M.  Daburon  listened  to  Noel  with  the  most  unremitting 
attention,  without  allowing  a  word,  a  movement,  or  a 
frown,  to  betray  his  feelings.  "  How,  sir,"  observed  the 
magistrate  when  the  young  man  ceased  speaking,  "  could 
you  have  told  me  that,  in  your  opinion,  no  one  was  in- 
terested in  Widow  Lerouge's  death  ?  " 

The  barrister  made  no  reply. 

"It  seems  to  me,"  continued  M.  Daburon,  "that  the 
Viscount  de  Commarin's  position  has  thereby  become  al- 
most impregnable.  Madame  Gerdy  is  insane  ;  the  count 
will  deny  all ;  your  letters  prove  nothing.  It  is  evident 
that  the  crime  is  of  the  greatest  service  to  this  young  man, 
and  that  it  was  committed  at  a  singularly  favourable 
moment." 

"  Oh  sir  ! "  cried  Noel,  protesting  with  all  his  energy, 
"this  insinuation  is  dreadful." 

The  magistrate  watched  the  barrister's  face  narrowly. 
Was  he  speaking  frankly,  or  was  he  but  playing  at  being 
generous  ?  Could  it  really  be  that  he  had  never  had  any 
suspicion  of  this  ?  Noel  did  not  flinch  under  the  gaze, 
but  almost  immediately  continued, — "What  reason  could 
this  young  man  have  for  trembling,  or  fearing  for  his 
position  ?  I  did  not  utter  one  threatening  word,  even  in- 


THE  LE ROUGE  CASE.  151 

directly.  I  did  not  present  myself  like  a  man  who,  furious 
at  being  robbed,  demands,  that  everything  which  had  been 
taken  from  him  should  be  restored  on  the  spot.  I  merely 
presented  the  facts  to  Albert,  saying,  '  Here  is  the  truth  ; 
what  do  you  thiiik  we  ought  to  do  ?  Be  judge.'  " 

"  And  he  asked  you  for  time  ?  " 

"Yes.  I  had  suggested  his  accompanying  me  to  see 
Widow  Lerouge,  whose  testimony  might  dispel  all  doubts  ; 
he  did  not  seem  to  understand  me.  But  he  was  well  ac- 
quainted with  her,  having  visited  her  with  the  count,  who 
supplied  her,  I  have  since  learned,  liberally  with  money.  " 

"  Did  not  this  generosity  appear  to  you  very  singular  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  Can  you  explain  why  the  viscount  did  not  appear  dis- 
posed to  accompany  you  ?  " 

"  Certainly.  He  had  just  said  that  he  wished,  before 
all,  to  have  an  explanation  with  his  father,  who  was  then 
absent,  but  who  would  return  in  a  few  days." 

The  truth,  as  all  the  world  knows,  and  delights  in  pro- 
claming,  has  an  accent  which  no  one 'can  mistake.  M. 
Daburon  had  not  the  slightest  doubt  of  his  witness's  good 
faith.  Noel  continued  with  the  ingenuous  candour  of  an 
honest  heart  which  suspicion  has  never  touched  with  its 
bat's  wing  :  "  The  idea  of  treating  at  once  with,  my  father 
pleased  me  exceedingly.  I  thought  it  so  much  better  to 
wash  all  one's  dirty  linen  at  home,  I  had  never  desired 
anything  but  an  amicable  arrangement.  With  my  hands 
full  of  proofs,  I  should  still  recoil  from  a  public  trial." 

"  Would  you  not  have  brought  an  action  ? " 

"  Never,  sir,  not  at  any  price.  Could  I,"  he  added 
proudly,  "  to  regain,  my  rightful  name,  begin  by  dishonour- 
ing it  ?  " 

This  time  M.  Daburon  could  not  conceal  his  sincere 
admiration. 

"  A  most  praiseworthy  feeling,  sir,"  he  said. 

"  I  think,"  replied  Noel,  "  that  it  is  but  natural.  If 
things  came  to  the  worst,  I  had  determined  to  leave  my 
title  with  Albert.  No  doubt  the  name  of  Commarin  is  an 
illustrious  one  ;  but  I  hope  that,  in  ten  years  time,  mine 
will  be  more  known.  I  would,  however,  have  demanded 
a  large  pecuniary  compensation.  I  possess  nothing  :  and 
I  have  often  been  hampered  in  my  career  by  the  want  of 
money.  That  which  Madame  Gercly  owed  to  the  generos- 


1 52  THE  LE ROUGE  CASE. 

ity  of  my  father  was  almost  entirely  spent.  My  education 
had  absorbed  a  great  part  of  it ;  and  it  was  long  before 
my  profession  covered  my  expenses.  Madame  Gerdy  and 
I  live  very  quietly ;  but,  unfortunately,  though  simple  in 
her  tastes,  she  lacks  economy  and  system  ;  and  no  one 
can  imagine  how  great  our  expenses  have  been.  But  I 
have  nothing  to  reproach  myself  with,  whatever  happens. 
At  the  commencement,  I  could  not  keep  my  anger  well 
under  control ;  but  now  I  bear  no  ill-will.  On  learning 
of  the  death  of  my  nurse,  though,  I  cast  all  my  hopes  into 
the  sea." 

"  You  were  wrong,  my  dear  sir,"  said  the  magistrate. 
"  I  advise  you  to  still  hope.  Perhaps,  before  the  end  of 
the  day,  you  will  enter  into  possession  of  your  rights. 
Justice,  I  will  not  conceal  from  you,  thinks  she  has  fouud 
Widow  Lerouge's  assassin.  At  this  moment,  Viscount 
Albert  is  doubtless  under  arrest." 

"What!"  exclaimed  Noel,  with  a  sort  of  stupor:  "I 
was  not,  then,  mistaken,  sir,  in  the  meaning  of  your 
words.  I  dreaded  to  understand  them." 

"  You  have  not  mistaken  me,  sir,"  said  M.  Daburon. 
"  I  thank  you  for  your  sincere  straightforward  explanations  ; 
they  have  eased  my  task  materially.  To-morrow, — for  to- 
day my  time  is  all  taken  up, — we  will  write  down  your  de- 
position together  if  you  like.  I  have  nothing  more  to  say, 
I  believe,  except  to  ask  you  for  the  letters  in  your  posses- 
sion, and  which  are  indispensable  to  me." 

"  Within  an  hour,  sir,  you  shall  have  them,"  replied 
Noel.  And  he  retired,  after  having  warmly  expressed  his 
gratitude  to  the  investigating  magistrate. 

Had  he  been  less  preoccupied,  the  barrister  might  have 
perceived  at  the  end  of  the  gallery  old  Tabaret,  who  had 
just  arrived,  eager  and  happy,  like  a  bearer  of  great  news 
as  he  was.  His  cab  had  scarcely  stopped  at  the  gate  of 
the  Palais  de  Justice  before  he  was  in  the  courtyard  and 
rushing  towards  the  porch.  To  see  him  jumping  more 
nimbly  than  a  fifth-rate  lawyer's  clerk  up  the  steep  flight 
of  stairs  leading  to  the  magistrate's  office,  one  would 
never  have  believed  that  he  was  many  years  on  the  shady 
side  of  fifty.  Even  he  himself  had  forgotten  it.  He  did 
not  remember  how  he  had  passed  the  night ;  he  had  never 
before  felt  so  fresh,  so  agile,  in  such  spirits  ;  he  seemed 
to  have  springs  of  steel  in  his  limbs.  He  burst  like  a  can- 


THE  LE ROUGE  CASE.  153 

non-shot  into  the  magistrate's  office,  knocking  up  against 
the  methodical  clerk  in  the  rudest  of  ways,  without  even 
asking  his  pardon.  "  Caught !  "  he  cried,  while  yet  'on 
the  threshold,  "  caught,  nipped,  squeezed,  strung,  trapped, 
locked  !  We  have  got  the  man."  Old  Tabaret,  more  Ti- 
rauclair  than  ever,  gesticulated  with  such  comical  vehe- 
mence and  such  remarkable  contortions  that  even  the  tall 
clerk  smiled,  for  which,  however,  he  took  himself  severely 
to  task  on  going  to  bed  that  night. 

But  M.  Daburon,  still  under  the  influence  of  Noel's 
deposition,  was  shocked  at  this  apparently  unseasonable 
joy  ;  although  he  felt  the  safer  for  it.  He  looked  severely 
at  old  Tabaret,  saying, — "  Hush,  sir ;  be  decent,  compose 
yourself. " 

At  any  other  time,  the  old  fellow  would  have  felt 
ashamed  at  having  deserved  such  a  reprimand.  Now, 
it  made  no  impression  on  him.  "  I  can't  be  quiet,"  he 
replied.  "  Never  has  anything  like  this  been  known  before. 
All  that  I  mentioned  has  been  found.  Broken  foil,  laven- 
der kid  gloves  slightly  frayed,  cigar-holder;  nothing  is 
wanting.  You  shall  have  them,  sir,  and  many  other  things 
besides.  I  have  a  little  system  of  my  own,  which  appears 
by  no  means  a  bad  one.  Just  see  the  triumph  of  my 
method  of  induction,  which  Gevrol  ridiculed  so  much.  I'd 
give  a  hundred  francs  if  he  were  only  here  now.  But  no ; 
my  Gevrdi  wants  to  nab  the  man  with  the  ear-rings  ;  he 
is  just  capable  of  doing  that.  He  is  a  fine  fellow,  this 
Gevrol,  a  famous  fellow  !  How  much  do  you  give  him  a 
year  for  his  skill  ?  " 

"  Come,  my  dear  M.  Tabaret,"  said  the  magistrate,  as 
soon  as  he  could  get  in  a  word,  "be  serious,  if  you  can, 
and  let  us  proceed  in  order." 

"  Pooh  !  "  replied  the  old  fellow,  "  what  good  will  that 
do  ?  It  is  a  clear  case  now.  When  they  bring  the  fellow 
before  you,  merely  show  him  the  particles  of  kid  taken 
from  behind  the  nails  of  the  victim,  side  by  side  with  his 
torn  gloves,  and  you  will  overwhelm  him.  I  wager  that 
he  will  confess  all,  hie  et  nunc, — yes,  I  wager  my  head 
against  his  ;  although  that's  pretty  risky  ;  for  he  may  get 
off  yet !  Those  milk-sops  on  the  jury  are  just  capable  of 
according  him  extenuating  circumstances.  Ah  !  all  those 
delays  are  fatal  to  justice  !  Why  if  all  the  world  were  of  my 
mind,  the  punishment  of  rascals  wouldn't  take  such  a  time  ! 


154  THE  LEKOrCK  CASE. 

They  should  be  hanged  as  soon  as  caught.     That's  my 
opinion." 

M.  Daburon  resigned  himself  to  this  shower  of  words. 
As  soon  as  the  old  fellow's  excitement  had  cooled  down  a 
little,  he  began  questioning  him.  He  even  then  had  great 
trouble  in  obtaining  the  exact  details  of  the  arrest ;  details 
which  later  on  were  confirmed  by  the  commissary's  official 
report.  The  magistrate  appeared  very  surprised  when  he 
heard  that  Albert  had  exclaimed,  "  I  am  lost !  "  at  sight  of 
the  warrant.  "  That,"  muttered  he,  "  is  a  terrible  proof 
against  him. 

"  I  should  think  so,"  replied  old  Tabaret.  "  In  his  or- 
dinary state,  he  would  never  have  allowed  himself  to  utter 
such  words ;  for  they  in  fact  destroy  him.  We  arrested 
him  when  he  was  scarcely  awake.  He  hadn't  been  in  bed, 
but  was  lying  in  a  troubled  sleep,  upon  a  sofa,  when  we  ar-' 
rived.  I  took  good  care  to  let  a  frightened  servant  run  in 
in  advance,  and  to  follow  closely  upon  him  myself,  to  see 
the  effect.  All  my  arrangements  were  made.  But,  never 
fear,  he  will  find  a  plausible  excuse  for  this  fatal  examina- 
tion. By  the  way,  I  should  add  that  we  found  on  the  floor, 
near  by,  a  crumpled  copy  of  last  evening's  '  Gazette  de 
France,'  which  contained  an  account  of  the  assassination. 
This  is  the  first  time  that  a  piece  of  news  in  the  papers 
ever  helped  to  nab  a  criminal." 

"  Yes,"  murmured  the  magistrate,  deep  in  thought,  "  yes, 
you  are  a  valuable  man,  M.  Tabaret."  Then,  louder,  he 
added,  "  I  am  thoroughly  convinced  ;  for  M.  Gerdy  has 
just  this  moment  left  me." 

"  You  have  seen  Noel !  "  cried  the  old  fellow.  On  the  in- 
stant all  his  proud  self-satisfaction  disappeared.  A  cloud 
of  anxiety  spread  itself  like  a  veil  over  his  beaming  coun- 
tenance. "  Noel  here,"  he  repeated.  Then  he  timidly 
added  :  "  And  does  he  know  ?  " 

"  Nothing,"  replied  M.  Daburon.  "  I  had  no  need  of 
mentioning  your  name.  Besides,  had  I  not  promised  ab- 
solute secrecy  ?  " 

"  Ah,  that's  all  right,"  cried  old  Tabaret.  "  And  what 
do  you  think  sir,  of  Noel  ?  " 

"  His  is,  I  am  sure,  a  noble,  worthy  heart,"  said  the 
magistrate  ;  "  a  nature  both  strong  and  tender.  •  The  senti- 
ments which  I  heard  him  express  here,  and  the  genuine- 
ness of  which  it  is  impossible  to  doubt,  manifested  an  ele- 


THE  LE ROUGE  CASE.  155 

vation  of  soul,  unhappily,  very  rare.  Seldom  in  my  life 
have  I  met  with  a  man  who  so  won  my  sympathy  from  the 
first.  I  can  well  understand  one's  pride  in  being  among 
his  friends." 

"Just  what  I  said;  he  has  precisely  the  same  effect 
upon  every  one.  I  love  him  as  though  he  were  my  own 
child  ;  and,  whatever  happens,  he  will  inherit  almost  the 
whole  of  my  fortune  :  yes,  I  intend  leaving  him  everything. 
My  will  is  made,  and  is  in  the  hands  of  M.  Baron,  my  no- 
tary. There  is  a  small  legacy,  too,  for  Madame  Gerdy  ; 
but  I  am  going  to  have  the  paragraph  that  relates  to  that 
taken  out  at  once." 

"  Madame  Gerdy,  M.  Tabaret,  will  soon  be  beyond  all 
need  of  worldly  goods."  . 

"  How,  what  do  you  mean  ?     Has  the  count — " 

"  She  is  dying,  and  is  not  likely  to  live  through  the  day  \ 
M.  Gerdy  told  me  so  himself." 

"  Ah  !  heavens  !  "  cried  the  old  fellow,  "  what  is  that 
you  say  ?  Dying  ?  Noel  will  be  distracted  ,  but  no  :  since 
she  is  not  his  mother,  how  can  it  affect  him  ?  Dying  !  I 
thought  so  much  of  her  before  this  discovery.  Poor  hu- 
manity !  It  seems  as  though  all  the  accomplices  are  pass- 
ing away  at  the  same  time ;  for  I  forgot  to  tell  you,  that, 
just  as  I  was  leaving  the  Commarin  Mansion,  I  heard  a 
servant  tell  another  that  the  count  had  fallen  down  in  a  fit 
on  learning  the  news  of  his  son's  arrest." 

"  That  will  be  a  great  misfortune  for  M.  Gerdy." 

"  For  Noel  ?  " 

"  I  had  counted  upon  M.  de  Commarin's  testimony  to 
recover  %for  him  all  that  he  so  well  deserves.  The  count 
dead,  Widow  Lerouge  dead,  Madame  Gerdy  dying,  or  in 
any  event  insane,  who  then  can  tell  us  whether  the  substi- 
tution alluded  to  in  the  letters  was  ever  carried  into  exe- 
cution ? " 

"  True,"  murmured  old  Tabaret ;  "  it  is  true  !  And  I 
did  not  think  of  it.  What  fatality  !  For  I  am  not  de« 
ceived  ;  I  am  certain  that — " 

He  did  not  finish.  The  door  of  M.  Daburon's  office 
opened,  and  the  Count  de  Commarin  himself  appeared  on 
the  threshold,  as  rigid  as  one  of  those  old  portraits  which 
look  as  thdugh  they  were  frozen  in  their  gilded  frames. 
The  nobleman  motioned  with  his  hand,  and  the  two  ser- 
vants who  had  helped  him  up  as  far  as  the  door,  retired. 


156  THE  LEROUGE  CASE. 


XL 

IT  was  indeed  the  Count  de  Commarin,  though  more 
like  his  shadow.  His  head,  usually  carried  so  high,  leant 
upon  his  chest;  his  figure  was  bent-  his  eyes  had  no 
longer  their  accustomed  fire  ;  his  hands  trembled.  The 
extreme  disorder  of  his  dress  rendered  more  striking  still 
the  change  which  had  come  over  him.  In  one  night,  he 
had  grown  twenty  years  older.  This  man,  yesterday  so 
proud  of  never  having  bent  to  a  storm,  was  now  completely 
shattered.  The  pride  of  his  name  had  constituted  his  en- 
tire strength;  that  humbled,  he  seemed  utterly  over- 
whelmed. Everything  in  him  gave  way  at  once  ;  all  his 
supports  failed  him  at  the  same  time.  His  cold,  lifeless 
gaze  revealed  the  dull  stupor  of  his  thoughts.  He  pre- 
sented such  a  picture  of  utter  despair  that  the  investigat- 
ing magistrate  slightly  shuddered  at  the  sight.  M.  Taba- 
ret  looked  frightened,  and  even  the  clerk  seemed  moved. 

"  Constant,"  said  M.  Daburon  quickly,  "  go  with  M.  Ta- 
baret,  and  see  if  there's  any  news  at  the  Prefecture." 

The  clerk  left  the  room,  followed  by  the  detective,  who 
went  away  regretfully.  The  count  had  not  noticed  their 
presence  ,  he  paid  no  attention  to  their  departure.  M.  Da- 
buron offered  him  a  seat,  which  he  accepted  with  a  sad 
smile.  "  I  feel  so  weak,"  said  he  ,  "  you  must  excuse  my 
sitting." 

Apologies  to  an  investigating  magistrate  !  What  an  ad- 
vance in  civilisation,  when  the  nobles  consider  themselves 
subject  to  the  law,  and  bow  to  its  decrees  !  Every  one  re- 
spects justice  now-a-days,  and  fears  it  a  little,  even  when 
only  represented  by  a  simple  and  conscientious  investigat- 
ing magistrate. 

"  You  are,  perhaps,  too  unwell,  count,"  said  the  magistrate, 
"  to  give  me  the  explanations  I  had  hoped  for." 

"  I  am  better,  thank  you,"  replied  M.  de  Commarin,  "  I 
am  as  well  as  could  be  expected  after  the  shock  I  have  re- 
ceived. When  I  heard  of  the  crime  of  which  my  son  is  ac- 
cused, and  of  his  arrest,  I  was  thunderstruck.  I  believed 
myself  a  strong  man  ;  but  I  rolled  in  the  dust  My  ser- 
vants thought  me  dead.  Why  was  it  not  so  ?  The  strength 
fomy  constitution,  my  physician  tells  me,  was  all  that  saved 
me  ;  but  I  believe  that  heaven  wishes  me  to  live,  that  I  mav 


THE  LE ROUGE  CASE.  157 

drink  to  the  bitter  dregs  my  cup  of  humiliation."  He 
stopped  suddenly,  nearly  choked  by  a  flow  of  blood 
that  rose  to  his  mouth.  The  investigating  magistrate  re- 
mained standing  near  the  table,  almost  afraid  to  move.  Af- 
ter a  few  moments'  rest,  the  count  found  relief,  and  con- 
tinued,— "  Unhappy  man  that  I  am  !  ought  I  not  to  have 
expected  it  ?  Everything  comes  to  light  sooner  or  later. 
I  am  punished  for  my  great  sin, — pride.  I  thought  myself 
out  of  reach  of  the  thunderbolt ,  and  I  have  been  the  means 
of  drawing  down  the  storm  upon  my  house.  Albert  an 
assassin  !  A  Viscount  de  Commarin  arraigned  before  a 
court  of  assize !  Ah,  sir,  punish  me,  also ;  for  I  alone 
and  long  ago,  laid  the  foundation  of  this  crime.  Fifteen 
centuries  of  spotless  fame  end  with  me  in  infamy." 

M.  Daburon  considered  Count  de  Commarin's  conduct 
unpardonable,  and  had  determined  not  to  spare  him.  He 
had  expected  to  meet  a  proud,  haughty  noble,  almost  un- 
manageable ;  and  he  had  resolved  to  humble  his  arrogance. 
Perhaps  the  harsh  treatment  he  had  received  of  old  from 
the  Marchioness  d'Arlange  had  given  him,  unconsciously, 
a  slight  grudge  against  the  aristocracy.  He  had  vaguely 
thought  of  certain  rather  severe  remarks,  which  were  to 
overcome  the  old  nobleman,  and  bring  him  to  a  sense  of 
his  position.  But  when  he  found  himself  in  the  presence 
of  such  a  sincere  repentance,  his  indignation  changed  to 
profound  pity,  and  he  began  to  wonder  how  he  could 
assuage  the  count's  grief. 

"  Write,  sir,"  continued  M.  de  Commann  with  an  exalta- 
tion of  which  he  did  not  seem  capable  ten  minutes  before, 
—  "write  my  avowal  and  suppress  nothing.  I  have  no 
longer  need  of  mercy  nor  of  tenderness.  What  have  I  to 
fear  now  ?  Is  not  my  disgrace  public  ?  Must  not  I, 
Count  Rheteau  de  Commarin  appear  before  the  tribunal, 
to  proclaim  the  infamy  of  our  house  ?  Ah  !  all  is  lost  now, 
even  honour  itself.  Write,  sir ;  for  I  wish  that  all  the  world 
shall  know  that  I  am  the  most  deserving  of  blame.  But 
they  shall  also  know  that  the  punishment  has  been  already 
terrible,  and  that  there  was  no  need  for  this  last  and  awful 
trial."  The  count  stopped  for  a  moment,  to  concentrate  and 
arrange  his  memory.  He  soon  continued,  in  a  firmer  voice, 
and  adapting  his  tone  to  what  he  had  to  say,  "  When  I  was  of 
Albert's  age,  sir,  my  parents  made  me  marry,  in  spite  of  my 
protestations,  the  noblest  and  purest  of  young  girls.  J 


158  THE  LEKOUGE  CASE. 

made  her  the  most  unhappy  of  women.  I  could  not  love 
her.  I  cherished  a  most  passionate  love  for  a  mistress, 
who  had  trusted  herself  to  me,  and  whom  I  had  loved  for 
a  long  time.  I  found  her  rich  in  beauty,  purity  and  mind. 
Her  name  was  Valerie.  My  heart  is,  so  to  say,  dead  and 
cold  in  me,  sir ,  but,  ah  !  when  I  pronounce  that  name,  it 
.  still  has  a  great  effect  upon  me.  In  spite  of  my  marriage, 
I  could  not  induce  myself  to  part  from  her,  though  she 
wished  me  to.  The  idea  of  sharing  my  love  with  another 
was  revolting  to  her.  No  doubt  she  loved  me  then.  Our 
relations  continued.  My  wife  and  my  mistress  became 
mothers  at  nearly  the  same  time.  This  coincidence  sug- 
gested to  me  the  fatal  idea  of  sacrificing  my  legitimate  son 
to  his  less  fortunate  brother.  I  communicated  this  pro- 
ject to  Valerie.  To  my  great  surprise,  she  refused  it  with 
horror.  Already  the  maternal  instinct  was  aroused  within 
her ;  she  would  not  be  separated  from  her  child.  I  have 
preserved,  as  a  monument  of  my  folly,  the  letters  which 
she  wrote  to  me  at  that  time.  I  re-read  them  only  last  night. 
Ah !  why  did  I  not  listen  to  both  her  arguments  and  her 
prayers  ?  It  was  because  I  was  mad.  She  had  a  sort  of 
presentiment  of  the  evil  which  overwhelms  me  to-day.  But 
I  came  to  Paris  ; — I  had  absolute  control  over  her.  I 
threatened  to  leave  her,  never  to  see  her  again.  She 
yielded  ,  and  my  valet  and  Claudine  Lerouge  were  charged 
with  this  wicked  substitution.  It  is,  therefore,  the  son 
of  my  mistress  who  bears  the  title  of  Viscount  de  Com- 
marin,  and  who  was  arrested  but  a  short  time  ago." 

M.  Daburon  had  not  hoped  for  a  declaration  so  clear, 
and  above  all  so  prompt.  He  secretly  rejoiced  for  the 
young  barrister  whose  noble  sentiments  had  quite  captiva- 
ted him.  "So,  count,"  said  he,  "you  acknowledge  that 
M.  Noel  Gerdy  is  the  issue  of  your  legitimate  marriage, 
and  that  he  alone  is  entitled  to  bear  your  name  ? " 

"  Yes,  sir.  Alas !  I  was  then  more  delighted  at  the  suc- 
cess of  my  project  than  I  should  have  been  over  the  most 
brilliant  victory.  I  was  so  intoxicated  with  the  joy  of  hav- 
ing my  Valerie's  child  there,  near  me,  that  I  forgot  every- 
thing else.  I  had  transferred  to  him  a  part  of  my  love  for 
his  mother ;  or,  rather,  I  loved  him  still  more,  if  that  be 
possible.  The  thought  that  he  would  bear  my  name,  that 
he  would  inherit  all  my  wealth,  to  the  detriment  of  the 
other,  transported  me  with  delight  The  other,  I  hated ; 


THE  LE ROUGE  CASE.  159 

I  could  not  even  look  upon  him.  I  do  not  recollect  hav- 
ing kissed  him  twice.  On  this  point  Valerie,  who  was 
very  good,  reproached  me  severely.  One  thing  alone  in- 
terfered with  my  happiness.  The  Countess  de  Commarin 
adored  him  whom  she  believed  to  be  her  son,  and  always 
wished  to  have  him  on  her  knees.  I  cannot  express  what 
I  suffered  at  seeing  my  wife  cover  with  kisses  and  caresses 
thi  child  of  my  mistress.  But  I  kept  him  from  her  as 
much  as  I  could  ;  and  she,  poor  woman  !  not  understand^ 
ing  what  was  passing  within  me,  imagined  that  I  was  do- 
ing everything  to  prevent  her  son  loving  her.  She  died, 
sir,  with  this  idea,  which  poisoned  her  last  days.  She  died 
of  sorrow ;  but  saint-like,  without  a  complaint,  without  a 
murmur,  pardon  upon  her  lips  and  in  her  heart." 

Though  greatly  pressed  for  time,  M.  Daburon  did  not 
venture  to  interrupt  the  count,  to  ask  him  briefly  for  the 
immediate  facts  of  the  case.  He  knew  that  fever  alone 
gave  him  this  unnatural  energy,  to  which  at  any  moment 
might  succeed  the  most  complete  prostration.  He  feared, 
if  he  stopped  him  for  an  instant,  that  he  would  not  have 
strength  enough  to  resume. 

"  I  did  not  shed  a  single  tear,"  continued  the  count. 
"  What  had  she  been  in  my  life  ?  A  cause  of  sorrow  and 
remorse.  But  God's  justice,  in  advance  of  man's  was  about 
to  take  a  terrible  revenge.  One  day,  I  was  warned  that 
Valerie  was  deceiving  me,  and  had  done  so  for  a  long  time. 
I  could  not  believe  it  at  first ;  it  seemed  to  me  impossible, 
absurd.  I  would  have  sooner  doubted  myself  than  her. 
I  had  taken  her  from  a  garret,  where  she  was  working  six- 
teen hours  a  day  to  earn  a  few  pence  ;  she  owed  all  to  me. 
I  had  made  her  so  much  a  part  of  myself  that  I  could  not 
credit  her  being  false.  I  could  not  induce  myself  to  feel 
jealous.  However,  I  inquired  into  the  matter;  I  had  her 
watched ;  I  even  acted  the  spy  upon  her  myself.  I  had 
been  told  the  truth.  This  unhappy  woman  had  another 
lover,  and  had  had  him  for  more  than  ten  years.  He  was 
a  cavalry  officer.  In  coming  to  her  house  he  took  every 
precaution.  He  usually  left  about  midnight ;  but  some- 
times he  came  to  pass  the  night,  and  in  that  case  went 
away  in  the  early  morning.  Being  stationed  near  Paris, 
he  frequently  obtained  leave  of  absence  and  came  to  visit 
her  ;  and  he  would  remain  shut  up  in  her  apartments  un- 
til his  time  expired.  One  evening,  my  spies  brought  me 


i6o  7'IJE  LEROUGE  CASE. 

word  that  he  was  there.  I  hastened  to  the  house.  My 
presence  did  not  embarrass  her.  She  received  me  as 
usual,  throwing  her  arms  about  my  neck.  I  thought  that 
my  spies  had  deceived  me ;  and  I  was  going  to  tell  her  all, 
when  I  saw  upon  the  piano  a  buckskin  glove,  such  as  are 
worn  by  soldiers.  Not  wishing  a  scene,  and  not  knowing 
to  what  excess  my  anger  might  carry  me,  I  rushed  out  of 
the  place  without  saying  a  word.  I  have  never  seen  her 
since.  She  wrote  to  me.  I  did  not  open  her  letters. 
She  attempted  to  force  her  way  into  my  presence,  but  in 
vain  ;  my  servants  had  orders  that  they  dared  not  ignore." 

Could  this  be  the  Count  de  Commarin,  celebrated  for  his 
haughty  coldness,  for  his  reserve  so  full  of  disdain,  who 
spoke  thus,  who  opened  his  whole  life  without  restrictions, 
without  reserve  ?  And  to  whom  ?  To  a  stranger.  But 
he  was  in  one  of  those  desperate  states,  allied  to  madness, 
when  all  reflection  leaves  us,  when  we  must  find  some  out- 
let to  a  too  powerful  emotion.  What  mattered  to  him  this 
secret,  so  courageously  borne  for  so  many  years  ?  He 
disburdened  himself  of  it,  like  the  poor  man,  who,  weighed 
down  by  a  too  heavy  burden,  casts  it  to  the  earth  without 
caring  where  it  falls,  nor  how  much  it  may  tempt  the  cupid- 
ity of  the  passers-by. 

"  Nothing,"  continued  he,  "  no,  nothing,  can  approach 
to  what  I  then  endured.  My  very  heartstrings  were  bound 
up  in  that  woman.  She  was  like  a  part  of  myself.  In 
separating  from  her,  it  seemed  to  me  that  I  was  tearing 
away  a  part  of  my  own  flesh.  I  cannot  describe  the  furious 
passions  her  memory  stirred  within  me.  I  scorned  her  and 
longed  for  her  with  equal  vehemence.  I  hated  her,  and  I 
loved  her.  And,  to  this  day,  her  detestable  image  has  been 
ever  present  to  my  imagination.  Nothing  can  make  me 
forget  her.  I  have  never  consoled  myself  for  her  loss. 
And  that  is  not  all ,  terrible  doubts  about  Albert  occurred 
to  me.  Was  I  really  his  father  ?  Can  you  understand 
what  my  punishment  was,  when  I  thought  to  myself,  '  I 
have  perhaps  sacrificed  my  own  son  to  the  child  of  an  utter 
stranger.  This  thought  made  me  hate  the  bastard  who 
called  himself  Commarin.  To  my  great  affection  for  him 
succeeded  an  unconquerable  aversion.  How  often,  in  those 
days  I  struggled  against  an  insane  desire  to  kill  him  ! 
Since  then,  I  have  learned  to  subdue  my  aversion ;  but  I 
have  never  completely  mastered  it.  Albert,  sir,  has  been 


THE  LEROUGE  CASE.  161 

the  best  of  sons.  Nevertheless,  there  has  always  been  an 
icy  barrier  between  us,  which  he  was  unable  to  explain. 
I  have  often  been  on  the  point  of  appealing  to  the  tribunals, 
of  avowing  all,  of  reclaiming  my  legitimate  heir ;  but  regard 
for  my  rank  has  prevented  me.  I  recoiled  before  the  scan- 
dal. I  feared  the  ridicule  or  disgrace  that  would  attach  to 
my  name ;  and  yet  I  have  not  been  able  to  save  it  from 
infamy." 

The  old  nobleman  remained  silent,  after  pronouncing 
these  words.  In  a  fit  of  despair,  he  buried  his  face  in  his 
hands,  and  two  great  tears  rolled  silently  down  his  wrinkled 
cheeks.  In  the  meantime,  the  door  of  the  room  opened 
slightly,  and  the  tall  clerk's  head  appeared.  M.  Daburon 
signed  to  him  to  enter,  and  then  addressing  M.  cle  Com- 
marin,  he  said  in  a  voice  rendered  more  gentle  by  com- 
passion :  "  Sir,  in  the  eyes  of  heaven,  as  in  the  eyes  of 
society,  you  have  committed  a  great  sin  ;  and  the  results, 
as  you  see,  are  most  disastrous.  It  is  your  duty  to  repair 
the  evil  consequences  of  your  sin  as  much  as  lies  in  your 
power." 

"  Such  is  my  intention,  sir,  and,  may  I  say  so  ?  my 
dearest  wish." 

"  You  doubtless  understand  me,"  continued  M.  Da- 
buron. ' 

"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  the  old  man,  "  yes,  I  understand 
you." 

"  It  will  be  a  consolation  to  you,"  added  the  magistrate, 
"  to  learn  that  M.  Noel  Gerdy  is  worthy  in  all  respects  of 
the  high  position  that  you  are  about  to  restore  to  him.  He 
is  a  man  of  great  talent,  better  and  worthier  than  any  one 
I  know.  You  will  have  a  son  worthy  of  his  ancestors. 
And  finally,  no  one  of  your  family  has  disgraced  it,  sir,  for 
Viscount  Albert  is  not  a  Commarin." 

"  No,"  rejoined  the  count  quickly,  "  a  Commarin  would 
be  dead  at  this  hour ;  and  blood  washes  all  away." 

The  old  nobleman's  remark  set  the  investigating  mag- 
istrate thinking  profoundly.  "  Are  you  then  sure/'  said 
he,  "  of  the  viscount's  guilt  ?  " 

M.  de  Commarin  gave  the  magistrate  a  look  of  intense 
surprise.  "  I  only  arrived  in  Paris  yesterday  evening,"  he 
replied ;  "  and  I  am  entirely  ignorant  of  all  that  has  oc- 
curred. I  only  know  that  justice  would  not  proceed  with- 
out good  cause  against  a  man  of  Albert's  rank.  If  you 


1 62  THE  LE ROUGE  CASE. 

have  arrested  him,  it  is  quite  evident  that  you  have  some- 
thing more  than  suspicion  against  him, — that  you  possess 
positive  proofs." 

M.  Daburon  bit  his  lips,  and,  for  a  moment,  could  not 
conceal  a  feeling  of  displeasure.  He  had  neglected  his 
usual  prudence,  had  moved  too  quickly.  He  had  believed 
the  count's  mind  entirely  upset ;  and  now  he  had  aroused 
his  distrust.  All  the  skill  in  the  world  could  not  repair 
such  an  unfortunate  mistake.  A  witness  on  his  guard  is 
no  longer  a  witness  to  be  depended  upon ;  he  trembles  for 
fear  of  compromising  himstlf,  measures  the  weight  of  the 
questions,  and  hesitates  as  to  his  answers.  On  the  other 
hand,  justice,  in  the  form  of  a  magistrate,  is  disposed  to 
doubt  everything,  to  imagine  everything,  and  to  suspect 
everybody.  How  far  was  the  count  a  stranger  to  the  crime 
at  La  Jonchere  ?  Although  doubting  Albert's  paternity, 
he  would  certainly  have  made  great  efforts  to  save  him. 
His  story  showed  that  he  thought  his  honour  in  peril  just  as 
much  as  his  son.  Was  he  not  the  man  to  suppress,  by 
every  means,  an  inconvenient  witness  ?  Thus  reasoned  M. 
Daburon.  And  yet  he  could  not  clearly  see  how  the 
Count  de  Commarin's  interests  were  concerned  in  the 
matter.  This  uncertainty  made  him  very  uneasy.  "  Sir," 
he  asked,  more  sternly,  "when  were  you  informed  of  the 
discovery  of  your  secret  ? " 

"  Last  evening,  by  Albert  himself.  He  spoke  to  me  of 
this  sad  story,  in  a  way  which  I  now  seek  in  vain  to  ex- 
plain, unless — "  The  count  stopped  short,  as  if  his  reason 
had  been  struck  by  the  improbability  of  the  supposition 
which  he  had  formed. 

"  Unless  ! — "  inquired  the  magistrate  eagerly. 

"  Sir,"  said  the  count,  without  replying  directly, "  Al- 
bert is  a  hero,  if  he  is  not  guilty." 

"Ah!"  said  the  magistrate  quickly,  "have  you,  then, 
reason  to  think  him  innocent  ?  " 

M.  Daburon's  spite  was  so  plainly  visible  in  the  tone  of 
his  words  that  M.  de  Commarin  could  and  ought  to  have 
seen  the  semblance  of  an  insult.  He  started,  evidently 
offended,  and  rising,  said:  "I  am  now  no  more  a  witness 
for,  than  I  was  a  moment  ago  a  witness  against.  I  desire 
only  to  render  what  assistance  I  can  to  justice,  in  accord- 
ance with  my  duty." 

"  Confound  it,"  said  M.  Daburon  to  himself,  "  here  I 


THE  LEROUGE  CASE.  163 

have  offended  him  now !  Is  this  the  way  to  do  things, 
making  mistake  after  mistake  ?  " 

"  The  facts  are  these,"  resumed  "the  count.  "  Yester- 
day, after  having  spoken  to  me  of  these  cursed  letters,  Al- 
bert began  to  set  a  trap  to  discover  the  truth, — for  he  still 
had  doubts,  Noel  Gerdy  not  having  obtained  the  complete 
correspondence.  An  animated  -discussion  arose  between 
us.  He  declared  his  resolution  to  give  way  to  Noel.  I, 
on  the  other  hand,  was  resolved  to  compromise  the  mat- 
ter, cost  what  it  might.  Albert  dared  to  oppose  me.  All 
my  efforts  to  convert  him  to  my  views  were  useless.  Vainly 
I  tried  to  touch  those  chords  in  his  breast  which  I  supposed 
the  most  sensitive.  He  firmly  repeated  his  intention  to 
retire  in  spite  of  me,  declaring  himself  satisfied,  if  I  would 
consent  to  allow  him  a  modest  competence.  I  again  at- 
tempted to  shake  him,  by  showing  him  that  his  marriage, 
so  ardently  looked  forward  to  for  two  years,  would  be 
broken  off  by  this  blow.  He  replied  that  he  felt  sure  of 
the  constancy  of  his  betrothed,  Mademoiselle  d'Arlange." 

This  name  fell  like  a  thunderbolt  upon  the  ears  of  tke 
investigating  magistrate.  He  jumped  in  his  chair.  Feel- 
ing that  his  face  was  turning  crimson,  he  took  up  a  large 
bundle  of  papers  from  his  table,  and,  to  hide  his  emotion, 
he  raised  them  to  his  face,  as  though  trying  to  decipher  an 
illegible  word.  He  began  to  understand  the  difficult  duty 
with  which  he  was  charged.  He  knew  that  he  was  troub- 
led like  a  child,  having  neither  his  usual  calmness  nor  fore- 
sight. He  felt  that  he  might  commit  the  most  serious 
blunders.  Why  had  he  undertaken  this  investigation  ? 
Could  he  preserve  himself  quite  free  from  bias  ?  Did  he 
think  his  will  would  be  perfectly  impartial  ?  Gladly  would 
he  put  off  to  another  time  the  further  examination  of  the 
count ;  but  could  he  ?  His  conscience  told  him  that  this 
would  be  another  blunder.  He  renewed,  then,  the  pain- 
ful examination. 

"  Sir,"  said  he,  "  the  sentiments  expressed  by  the  vis- 
count are  very  fine,  without  doubt ;  but  did  he  not  men- 
tion Widow  Lerouge  ? " 

"Yes,"  replied  the  count,  who  appeared  suddenly  to 
brighten,  as  by  the  remembrance  of  some  unnoticed  cir- 
cumstances,— "  yes,  certainly." 

"  He  must  have  shown  you  that  this  woman's  testimony 
rendered  a  struggle  with  M.  Gerdy  impossible." 


<6t  THE  LEROUGK  CAS/-:. 

"  Precisely,  sir ;  and,  aside  from  the  question  of  duty, 
it  was  upon  that  that  he  based  his  refusal  to  follow  my 
wishes." 

"  It  will  be  necessary,  count,  for  you  to  repeat  to 
me  very  exactly  all  that  passed  between  the  viscount 
and  yourself.  Appeal,  then,  I  beseech  you,  to  your 
memory,  and  try  to  repeat  his  own  words  as  nearly  as  pos- 
sible." 

M.  de  Commarin  could  do  so  without  much  difficulty. 
For  some  little  time,  a  salutary  reaction  had  taken  place 
\vithin  him.  His  blood,  excited  by  the  persistence  of  the 
examination,  moved  in  its  accustomed  course.  His  brain 
cleared  itself.  The  scene  of  the  previous  evening  was  ad- 
mirably presented  to  his  memory,  even  to  the  most  insig- 
nificant details.  The  sound  of  Albert's  voice  was  still  in 
his  ears ;  he  saw  again  his  expressive  gestures.  As  his 
story  advanced,  alive  with  clearness  and  precision,  M. 
Daburon's  conviction  became  more  confirmed.  The  mag- 
istrate turned  against  Albert  precisely  that  which  the  day 
before  had  won  the  count's  admiration.  "  What  wonder- 
ful acting !  "  thought  he.  "  Tabaret  is  decidedly  possessed 
of  second  sight.  To  .his  inconceivable  boldness,  this 
young  man  joins  an  infernal  cleverness.  The  genius  of 
crime  itself  inspires  him.  It  is  a  miracle  that  we  are  able 
to  unmask  him.  How  well  everything  was  foreseen  and 
arranged  ?  How  marvellously  this  scene  with  his  father 
was  brought  about,  in  order  to  procure  doubt  in  case  of 
discovery  ?  There  is  not  a  sentence  which  lacks  a  pur- 
pose, which  does  not  tend  to  ward  off  suspicion.  What 
refinement  of  execution  ?  What  excessive  care  for  details ! 
Nothing  is  wanting,  not  even  the  great  devotion  of  his  be- 
trothed. Has  he  really  informed  Claire  ?  Probably  I  might 
find  out ;  but  I  should  have  to  see  her  again,  to  speak  to 
her.  Poor  child  !  to  love  such  a  man !  But  his  plan  is 
now  fully  exposed.  His  discussion  with  the  count  was 
his  plank  of  safety.  It  commited  him  to  nothing,  and 
gained  time.  He  would  of  course  raise  objections,  since 
they  would  only  end  by  binding  him  the  more  firmly  in 
his  father's  heart.  He  could  thus  make  a  merit  of  his 
compliance,  and  would  ask  a  reward  for  his  weakness. 
And,  when  Noel  returned  to  the  charge,  he  would  find 
himself  in  presence  of  the  count,  who  would  boldly  deny 
everything,  politely  refuse  to  have  anything  to  do  with  himf 


TUE  LE ROUGE  CASE.  165 

and  would  possibly  have  him  driven  out  of  the  house,  as 
an  impostor  and  forger." 

It  was  a  strange  coincidence,  but  yet  easily  explained, 
that  M.  de  Commarin,  while  telling  his  story,  arrived  at 
the  same  ideas  as  the  magistrate,  and  at  conclusions  al- 
most identical.  In  fact,  why  that  persistence  with  respect 
to  Claudine  ?  He  remembered  plainly,  that,  in  his  anger, 
he  had  said  to  his  son,  "  Mankind  is  not  in  the  habit  of 
doing  such  fine  actions  for  its  own  satisfaction."  That 
great  disinterestedness  was  now  explained. 

When  the  count  had  ceased  speaking,  M.  Daburon  said  : 
"  I  thank  you,  sir.  I  can  say  nothing  positive  ;  but  justice 
has  weighty  reasons  to  believe  that,  in  the  scene  which 
you  have  just  related  to  me,  Viscount  Albert  played  a 
part  previously  arranged." 

"  And  well  arranged,"  murmured  the  count ;  "  for  he  de- 
ceived me  !  " 

He  was  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  Noel,  who  car* 
ried  under  his  arm  a  black  shagreen  portfolio,  ornamented 
with  his  monogram.  The  barrister  bowed  to  the  old  gen- 
tleman, who  in  his  turn  rose  and  retired  politely  to  the  end 
of  the  room.  "  Sir,"  said  Noel,  in  an  undertone  to  the 
magistrate,  "  you  will  find  all  the  letters  in  this  portfolio. 
I  must  ask  permission  to  leave  you  at  once,  as  Madame 
Gerdy's  condition  grows  hourly  more  alarming." 

Noel  had  raised  his  voice  a  little,  in  pronouncing1  these 
last  words ;  and  the  count  "heard  them.  He  started,  and 
made  a  great  effort  to  restrain  the  question  which  leaped 
from  his  heart  to  his  lips.  "  You  must  however  give  me  a 
moment,  my  dear  sir,"  replied  the  magistrate. 

M.  Daburon  then  quitted  his  chair,  and,  taking  the  bar- 
rister by  the  hand,  led  him  to  the  count.  "  M.  de  Com 
marin,"  said  he,  "  I  have  the  honour  of  presenting  to  you 
M.  Noel  Gerdy." 

M.  de  Commarin  was  probably  expecting  some  scene  of 
this  kind  :  for  not  a  muscle  of  his  face  moved  :  he  remained 
perfectly  calm.  Noel,  on  his  side,  "was  like  a  man  who 
had  received  a  blow  on  the  head  ;  he  staggered,  and  was 
obliged  to  seek  support  from  the  back  of  a  chair.  Then 
these  two,  father  and  son,  stood  face  to  face,  apparently 
deep  in  thought,  but  in  reality  examining  one  another 
with  mutual  distrust,  each  striving  to  gather  something  of  the 
other's  thoughts.  M.  Daburon  had  augured  better  results 


166  THE  LEROUGE  CASE. 

from  this  meeting,  which  he  had  been  awaiting  ever  since  the 
count's  arrival.  He  had  expected  that  this  abrupt  presen- 
tation would  bring  abdut  an  intensely  pathetic  scene,  iiich 
would  not  give  his  two  witnesses  time  for  reflection, 
count  would  open  his  arms  :  Noel  would  throw  him 
into  them  ;  and  this  reconciliation  would  only  await  the 
sanction  of  the  tribunals,  to  be  complete.  The  coldness 
of  the  one,  the  embarrassment  of  the  other,  disconcerted 
his  plans.  He  therefore  thought  it  necessary  to  intervene. 
"  Count,"  said  he  reproachfully,  "  remember  that  it  was 
only  a  few  minutes  ago  that  you  admitted  that  M.  Gerdy 
was  your  legitimate  son." 

M.  de  Commarin  made  no  reply ;  to  judge  trom  his  lack 
of  emotion,  he  could  not  have  heard.  So  Noel,  summon- 
ing all  his  courage,  ventured  to  speak  first, — "  Sir,"  he 
stammered,  "  I  entertain  no — " 

"  You  may  call  me  father,"  interrupted  the  haughty 
old  man,  in  a  tone  which  was  by  no  means  affectionate. 
Then  addressing  the  magistrate  he  said  :  "  Can  I  be  of 
any  further  use  to  you,  sir  ?  " 

"  Only  to  hear  your  evidence  read  over,"  replied  M. 
Daburon,  "  and  to  sign  it  if  you  find  everything  correct. 
You  can  proceed,  Constant,"  he  added. 

The  tall  clerk  turned  half  round  on  his  chair  and  com- 
menced. He  had  a  peculiar  way  of  jabbering  over  what 
he  had  scrawled.  He  read  very  qnickly,  all  at  a  stretch, 
without  paying  the  least  attention  to  either  full  stops  or 
commas,  questions  or  replies  ;  but  went  on  reading  as  long 
as  his  breath  lasted.  When  he  could  go  on  no  longer,  he 
took  a  breath,  and  then  continued  as  before.  Uncon- 
sciously, he  reminded  one  of  a  diver,  who  every  now  and 
then  raises  his  head  above  water,  obtains  a  supply  of  air, 
and  disappears  again.  Noel  was  the  only  one  to  listen 
attentively  to  the  reading,  which  to  unpractised  ears  was 
unintelligible.  It  apprised  him  of  many  things  which  it 
was  important  for  him  to  know.  At  last  Constant  pro- 
nounced the  words,  "  In  testimony  whereof,"  &c.,  which 
end  all  official  reports  in  France.  He  handed  the  pen  to 
the  count,  who  signed  without  hesitation.  The  old  noble- 
man then  turned  towards  Noel.  "  I  am-  not  very  strong," 
he  said  ;  "  you  must  therefore,  my  son,"  emphasizing  the 
word,  "  help  your  father  to  his  carriage." 

The  young  barrister  advanced  eagerly.     His  face  bright- 


THE  LEKOUGE  CASE.  167 

ened,  as  he  passed  the  count's  arm  through  his'  own. 
When  they  were  gone,  M.  Daburon  could  not  resist  an 
i  Dulse  of  curiosity.  He  hastened  to  the  door,  which  he 
.ied  slightly  ;  and,  keeping  his  body  in  the  background, 
mat  he  might  not  himself  be  seen,  he  looked  out  into  the 
passage.  The  count  and  Noel  had  not  yet  reached  the 
end.  They  were  going  slowly.  The  count  seemed  to 
drag  heavily  and  painfully  along;  the  barrister  took  short 
steps,  bending  slightly  towards  his  father ;  and  all  his  move- 
ments were  marked  with  the  greatest  solicitude.  The 
magistrate  remained  watching  them  until  they  passed  out 
of  sight  at  the  end  of  the  gallery.  Then  he  returned  to 
his  seat,  heaving  a  deep  sigh.  "  At  least,"  thought  he,  "  I 
have  helped  to  make  one  person  happy.  The  day  will  not 
be  entirely  a  bad  one." 

But  he  had  no  time  to  give  way  to  his  thoughts,  the 
hours  flew  by  so  quickly.  He  wished  to  interrogate 
Albert  as  soon  as  possible ;  and  he  had  still  to  receive  the 
evidence  of  several  of  the  count's  servants,  and  the  report 
of  the  commissary  of  police  charged  with  the  arrest.  The 
servants  who  had  been  waiting  their  turn  a  long  while, 
were  now  brought  in  without  delay,  and  examined  sepa- 
rately. They  had  but  little  information  to  give ;  but  the 
testimony  of  each  was  so  to  say  a  fresh  accusation.  It 
was  easy  to  see  that  all  believed  their  master  guilty. 
Albert's  conduct  since  the  beginning  of  the  fatal  week,  his 
least  words,  his  most  insignificant  movements,  were  report- 
ed, commented  upon,  and  explained.  The  man  who  lives 
in  the  midst  of  thirty  servants  is  like  an  insect  in  a  glass 
box  under  the  magnifying  glass  of  a  naturalist.  Not  one 
of  his  acts  escapes  their  notice  :  he  can  scarcely  have  a 
secret  of  his  own  ;  and,  if  they  cannot  divine  what  it  is, 
they  at  least  know  that  he  has  one.  From  morn  till  night, 
he  is  the  point  of  observation  for  thirty  pairs  of  eyes,  inter- 
ested in  studying  the  slightest  changes  in  his  countenance. 
The  magistrate  obtained,  therefore,  an  abundance  of  those 
frivolous  details  which  seem  nothing  at  first ;  but  the 
slightest  of  which  may,  at  the  trial,  become  a  question  of 
life  or  death. 

By  combining  these  depositions,  reconciling  them  and 
putting  them  in  order,  M.  Daburon  was  able  to  follow  his 
prisoner  hour  by  hour  from  the  Sunday  morning.  Directly 
Noel  left,  the  viscount  gave  orders  that  all  visitors  should 


K.S  THE  LEROUI;I-:  CASE. 

be  informed  that  he  had  gone  into  the  country.  From 
that  moment,  the  whole  household  perceived  that  some- 
tiling  had  gone  wrong  with  him,  that  he  was  very  much 
annoyed,  or  very  unwell.  He  did  not  leave  his  study  on 
that  day,  but  had  his  dinner  brought  up  to  him.  He  ate 
very  little, — only  some  soup,  and  a  very  thin  fillet  of  sole 
with  white  wine.  While  eating,  he  said  to  M.  Courtois, 
the  butler  :  "  Remind  the  cook  to  spice  the  sauce  a  little 
more,  in  future,"  and  then  added  in  a  low  tone,  "Ah  !  to 
what  purpose  ? "  In  the  evening  he  dismissed  his  servants 
from  all  duties,  saying,  "  Go,  and  amuse  yourselves."  He 
expressly  warned  them  not  to  disturb  him  unless  he  rang. 
On  the  Monday,  he  did  not  get  up  until  noon,  although  usu- 
ally an  early  riser.  He  complained  of  a  violent  headache, 
and  of  feeling  sick.  He  took,  however  a  cup  of  tea.  He 
ordered  his  brougham,  but  almost  immediately  counter- 
manded the  order.  Lubin,  his  valet,  heard  him  say  :  "  I 
am  hesitating  too  much ; "  and  a  few  moments  later,  "  I 
must  make  up  my  mind."  Shortly  afterwards  he  began 
writing.  He  then  gave  Lubin  a  letter  to  carry  to  Madem- 
oiselle Claire  d'Arlange,  with  orders  to  deliver  it  only  to 
herself  or  to  Mademoiselle  Schmidt,  the  governess.  A 
second  letter,  containing  two  thousand  franc  notes,  was 
intrusted  to  Joseph,  to  be  taken  to  the  viscount's  club. 
Joseph  no  longer  remembered  the  name  of  the  person  to 
whom  the  letter  was  addressed ;  but  it  was  not  a  person 
of  title.  That  evening,  Albert  only  took  a  little  soup,  and 
remained  shut  up  in  his  room. 

He  rose  early  on  the  Tuesday.  He  wandered  about 
the  house,  as  though  he  were  in  great  trouble,  or  impa- 
tiently awaiting  something  which  did  not  arrive.  On  his 
going  into  the  garden,  the  gardener  asked  his  advice  con- 
cerning a  lawn.  He  replied,  "  You  had  better  consult 
the  count  upon  his  return."  He  did  not  breakfast  any 
more  than  the  day  before.  About  one  o'clock,  he  went 
down  to  stables,  and  caressed,  with  an  air  of  sadness,  his 
favourite  mare.  Norma.  Stroking  her  neck,  he  said,  "  Poor 
creature  !  poor  old  girl !  ''  At  three  o'clock,  a  messenger 
arrived  with  a  letter.  The  viscount  took  it,  and  opened  it 
hastily.  He  was  then  near  the  flower-garden.  Two  foot- 
men distinctly  heard  him  say,  "  She  cannot  resist."  He 
returned  to  the  house,  and  burnt  the  letter  in  the  large 
stove  in  the  hall.  As  he  y:as  sitting  down  to  dinner,  at 


LEKOLGE  CASE.  i6«j 

six  o'clock,  two  of  his  friends,  M.  de  Courtivois  and  the 
Marquis  de  Chouze,  insisted  upon  seeing  him,  in  spite  of 
all  orders.  They  would  not  be  refused.  These  gentle- 
men were  anxious  for  him  to  join  them  in  some  pleasure 
party,  but  he  declined,  saying  that  he  had  a  very  impor- 
tant appointment.  At  dinner  he  ate  a  little  more  than  on 
the  previous  days.  He  even  asked  the  butler  for  a  bottle 
of  Chateau-Lafite,  the  whole  of  which  he  drank  himself. 
While  taking  his  coffee,  he  smoked  a  cigar  in  the  dining- 
room,  contrary  to  the  rules  of  the  house.  At  half-past 
seven,  according  to  Joseph  and  two  footmen,  or  at  eight 
according  to  the  Swiss  porter  and  Lubin,  the  viscount 
went  out  on  foot,  taking  an  umbrella  with  him.  He  re- 
turned home  at  two  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  at  once 
dismissed  his  valet,  who  had  waited  up  for  him.  On  en- 
tering the  viscount's  room  on  the  Wednesday,  the  valet 
was  struck  with  the  condition  in  which  he  found  his  mas- 
ter's clothes.  They  were  wet,  and  stained  with  mud,  the 
trousers  were  torn.  He  ventured  to  make  a  remark  about 
them.  Albert  replied,  in  a  furious  manner,  "  Throw  the 
old  things  in  a  corner,  ready  to  be  given  away."  He  ap- 
peared to  be  much  better  all  that  day.  He  breakfasted 
with  a  good  appetite  ;  and  the  butler  noticed  that  he  was 
in  excellent  spirits.  He  passed  the  afternoon  in  the 
library,  and  burnt  a  pile  of  papers.  On  the  Thursday,  he 
again  seemed  very  unwell.  He  was  scarcely  able  to  go 
and  meet  the  count.  That  evening,  after  his  interview 
with  his  father,  he  went  to  his  room  looking  extremely  ill. 
Lubin  wanted  to  run  for  the  doctor :  he  forbade  him  to  do 
so,  or  to  mention  to  any  one  that  he  was  not  well. 

Such  was  the  substance  of  twenty  large  pages,  which 
the  tall  clerk  had  covered  with  writing,  without  once  turn- 
ing his  head  to  look  at  the  witnesses  who  passed  by  in 
their  fine  livery.  M.  Daburon  managed  to  obtain  this  evi- 
dence in  less  than  two  hours.  Though  well  aware  of  the 
importance  of  their  testimony,  all  these  servants  were  very 
voluble.  The  difficulty  was,  to  stop  them  when  they  had 
once  started.  From  all  they  said,  it  appeared  that  Albert 
was  a  very  good  master, — easily  served,  kind  and  polite 
to  his  servants.  Wonderful  to  relate !  there  were  found 
three  among  them  who  did  not  appear  perfectly  delighted 
at  the  misfortune  which  had  befallen  the  family.  Two 


1 70  THE  LEKOUGE  CASE. 

were  greatly  distressed.  M.  Lubin,  although  he  had  been 
an  object  of  especial  kindness,  was  not  one  of  these. 

The  turn  of  the  commissary  of  police  had  now  come. 
In  a  few  words,  he  gave  an  account  of  the  arrest,  already 
described  by  old  Tabaret.  He  did  not  forget  to  mention 
the  one  word  "  Lost,"  which  had  escaped  Albert ;  to  his 
mind,  it  was  a  confession.  He  then  delivered  all  the  ar- 
ticles seized  in  the  Viscount  de  Commarin's  apartments. 
The  magistrate  carefully  examined  these  things,  and  com- 
pared them  closely  with  the  scraps  of  evidence  gathered 
at  La  Jonchere.  He  soon  appeared,  more  than  ever  sat- 
isfied with  the  course  he  had  taken.  He  then  placed  all 
these  material  proofs  upon  his  table,  and  covered  them 
over  with  three  or  four  large  sheets  of  paper.  The  day 
was  far  advanced ;  and  M.  Daburon  had  no  more  than 
sufficient  time  to  examine  the  prisoner  before  night.  He 
now  remembered  that  he  had  tasted  nothing  since  morn- 
ing ;  and  he  sent  hastily  for  a  bottle  of  wine  and  some 
biscuits.  It  was  not  strength,  however,  that  the  magistrate 
needed  ;  it  was  courage.  All  the  while  that  he  was  eating 
and  drinking,  his  thoughts  kept  repeating  this  strange  sen- 
tence, "  I  am  about  to  appear  before  the  Viscount  de 
Commarin."  At  any  other  time,  he  would  have  laughed 
at  the  absurdity  of  the  idea ,  but,  at  this  moment,  it  seemed 
to  him  like  the  will  of  Providence. 

"  So  be  it,"  said  he  to  himself ;  "  this  is  my  punish- 
ment." And  immediately  he  gave  the  necessary  orders 
for  Viscount  Albert  to  be  brought  before  him. 


XII. 

ALBERT  scarcely  noticed  his  removal  from  home  to  the 
seclusion  of  the  prison.  Snatched  away  from  his  painful 
thoughts  by  the  harsh  voice  of  the  commissary,  saying. 
"  In  the  name  of  the  law  I  arrest  you,"  his  mind,  com- 
pletely upset,  was  a  long  time  in  recovering  its  equilibrium, 
Everything  that  followed  appeared  to  him  to  float  indis- 
tinctly in  a  thick  mist,  like  those  dream-scenes  represented 
on  the  stage  behind  a  quadruple  curtain  of  gauze.  To 
the  questions  put  to  him  he  replied,  without  knowing  what 
he  said.  Two  police  agents  took  hold  of  his  arms,  and 
helped  him  down  the  stairs.  He  could  not  have  walked 


THE  LEROUGE  CASE.  171 

down  alone.  His  limbs,  which  bent  beneath  him,  refused 
their  support.  The  only  thing  he  understood  of  al!  that 
was  said  around  him  was  that  the  count  had  been  struck 
with  apoplexy ;  but  even  that  he  soon  forgot.  They  lifted 
him  into  the  cab,  which  was  waiting  in  the  court-yard  at 
the  foot  of  the  steps,  rather  ashamed  at  finding  itself  in 
such  a  place ;  and  they  placed  him  on  the  back  seat. 
Two  police  agents  installed  themselves  in  front  of  him  ; 
while  a  third  mounted  the  box  by  the  side  of  the  driver. 
During  the  drive,  he  did  not  at  all  realize  his  situation. 
He  lay  perfectly  motionless  in  the  dirty,  greasy  vehicle. 
His  body,  which  followed  every  jolt,  scarcely  allayed  by 
the  worn-out  springs,  rolled  from  one  side  to  the  other ; 
and  his  head  oscillated  on  his  shoulders,  as  if  the  muscles 
of  his  neck  were  broken.  He  thought  of  Widow  Lerouge. 
He  recalled  her  as  she  was  when  he  went  with  his  father 
to  La  Jonchere.  It  was  in  the  spring-time  ;  and  the  haw- 
thorn blossoms  scented  the  air.  The  old  woman,  in  a 
white  cap,  stood  at  her  garden  gate  :  she  spoke  beseech- 
ingly. The  count  looked  sternly  at  her  as  he  listened ; 
then,  taking  some  gold  from  his  purse,  he  gave  it  to 
her. 

On  arriving  at  their  destination  they  lifted  him  out  of  the 
cab,  the  same  way  as  the_y  had  lifted  him  in  at  starting. 
During  the  formality  of  entering  his  name  in  the  jail-book, 
in  the  dingy,  stinking  record  office,  and  whilst  replying 
mechanically  to  everything,  he  gave  himself  up  with  delight 
to  recollections  of  Claire.  He  went  back  to  the  time  of 
the  early  days  of  their  love,  when  he  doubted  whether  he 
would  ever  have  the  happiness  of  being  loved  by  her  in 
return  ;  when  they  used  to  meet  at  Mademoiselle  Goello's. 
This  old  maid  had  a  house  on  the  left  bank  of  the  Seine, 
furnished  in  the  most  eccentric  manner.  On  all  the  draw- 
ing-room furniture,  and  on  the  mantel-piece,  were  placed  a 
dozen  or  fifteen  stuffed  dogs,  of  various  breeds,  which  to- 
gether or  successively  had  helped  to  cheer  the  maiden's 
lonely  hours.  She  loved  to  relate  stories  of  these  pets, 
whose  affection  had  never  failed  her.  Some  were  grotesque, 
others  horrible.  One  especially,  outrageously  stuffed, 
seemed  ready  to  burst.  How  many  times  he  and  Claire 
had  laughed  at  it  until  the  tears  came  ! 

The  officials  next  began  to  search  him.  This  crowning 
humiliation,  these  rough  hands  passing  all  over  his  body, 


IJ3  TJJE  LEROL'GE  CASE. 

brought  him  somewhat  to  himself,  and  roused  his  anger. 
l!ut  it  was  already  over ;  and  they  at  once  dragged  him  along 
the  dark  corridors,  over  the  filthy,  slippery  floor.  They 
opened  a  door,  and  pushed  him  into  a  small  cell.  He  then 
heard  them  lock  and  bolt  the  door.  He  was  a  prisoner, 
and,  in  accordance  with  special  orders,  in  solitary  confine- 
ment. He  immediately  felt  a  marked  sensation  of  comfort. 
He  was  alone.  No  more  stifled  \vhispers,  harsh  voices, 
implacable  questions,  sounded  in  his  ears.  A  profound 
silence  reigned  around.  It  seemed  to  him  that  he  had  for- 
ever escaped  from  society ;  and  he  rejoiced  at  it.  He 
would  have  felt  relieved,  had  this  even  been  the  silence  of 
the  grave.  His  body,  as  well  as  his  mind,  was  weighed 
down  with  weariness.  He  wanted  to  sit  down,  when  he 
perceived  a  small  bed,  to  the  right,  in  front  of  the  grated 
window,  which  let  in  the  little  light  there  was.  This  bed 
was  as  welcome  to  him  as  a  plank  would  be  to  a  drowning 
man.  He  threw  himself  upon  it,  and  lay  down  with 
delight ;  but  he  felt  cold,  so  he  unfolded  the  coarse  woollen 
coverlid,  and  wrapping  it  about  him,  was  soon  sound 
asleep. 

In  the  corridor,  two  detectives,  one  still  young,  the  other 
rather  old,  applied  alternately  their  eyes  and  ears  to  the 
peep-hole  in  the  door,  watching  every  movement  of  the 
prisoner  ;  '"What  a  fellow  he  is  !  "  murmured  the  younger 
officer  "  If  a  man  has  no  more  nerve  than  that,  he  ought 
to  remain  honest.  He  won't  care  much  about  his  looks 
the  morning  of  his  execution,  eh,  M.  Balan  ?  " 

"That  depends,"  replied  the  other,  "We  must  wait  and 
see.  Lecoq  told  me  that  he  was  a  terrible  rascal." 

"  Ah  !  look  he  arranges  his  bed,  and  lies  down.  Can 
he  be  going  to  sleep  ?  That's  good  !  It's  the  first  time  I 
ever  saw  such  a  thing." 

"  It  is  because,  comrade,  you  have  only  had  dealings 
with  the  smaller  rogues.  All  rascals  of  position — and  I 
have  had  to  do  with  more  than  one — are  this  sort.  At 
the  moment  of  arrest,  they  are  incapable  of  anything 
their  heart  fails  them  ;  but  they  recover  themselves  next 
day." 

"  Upon  my  word,  one  would  say  he  has  gone  to  sleep ! 
What  a  joke!" 

"  I  tell  you,  my  friend,"  added  the  old  man,  pointedly, 
"  that  nothing  is  more  natural.  I  am  sure  that,  since  the 


THE  LEROUGE  CASE.  173 

blow  was  struck,  this  young  fellow  has  hardly  lived  :  his 
body  has  been  all  on  fire.  Now  he  knows  that  his  secret  is 
out ;  and  that  quiets  him." 

"  Ha,  ha  !  M.  Balan,  you  are  joking :  you  say  that 
that  quiets  him  ?  " 

"  Certainly.  There  is  no  greater  punishment,  remember, 
than  anxiety  ;  every  thing  is  preferable.  If  you  only  pos- 
sessed an  income  of  ten  thousand  francs,  I  would  show  you 
a  way  to  prove  this.  I  would  tell  you  to  go  to  Hamburg 
and  risk  your  entire  fortune  on  one  chance  at  rouge  et  noir. 
You  could  relate  to  me,  afterwards,  what  your  feelings 
were  while  the  ball  was  rolling.  It  is,  my  boy,  as  though 
your  brain  was  being  torn  with  pincers,  as  though  molten 
lead  was  being  poured  into  your  bones,  in  place  of  marrow. 
This  anxiety  is  so  strong,  that  one  feels  relieved,  one 
breathes  again,  even  when  one  has  lost.  It  is  ruin  ;  but 
then  the  anxiety  is  over." 

"  Really,  M.  Balan,  one  would  think  that  you  yourself 
had  had  just  such  an  experience." 

"  Alas  !  sighed  the  old  detective,  "  it  is  to  my  love  queen 
of  spades,  my  unhappy  love,  that  you  owe  the  honour  of 
looking  through  this  peep-hole  in  my  company.  But  this 
fellow  will  sleep  for  a  couple  of  hours,  do  not  lose  sight 
of  him ;  I  am  going  to  smoke  a  cigarette  in  the  court- 
yard." 

Albert  slept  four  hours.  On  awaking  his  head  seemed 
clearer  than  it  had  been  ever  since  his  interview  with  Noel. 
It  was  a  terrible  moment  for  him,  when,  for  the  first  time 
he  became  fully  aware  of  his  situation.  "  Now,  indeed," 
said  he,  "  I  require  all  my  courage."  He  longed  to  see 
some  one,  to  speak,  to  be  questioned,  to  explain.  He  felt 
a  desire  to  call  out.  "  But  what  go*od  would  that  be?" 
he  asked  himself.  "  Some  one  will  be  coming  soon." 
He  looked  for  his  watch,  to  see  what  time  it  was,  and 
found  that  they  had  taken  it  away.  He  felt  this  deeply ; 
they  were  treating  him  like  the  most  abandoned  of  villains. 
He  felt  in  his  pockets  :  they  had  all  been  carefully  emptied. 
He  thought  now  of  his  personal  appearance  ;  and,  getting 
up,  he  repaired  as  much  as  possible  the  disorder  of  his  toilet. 
He  put  his  clothes  in  order,  and  dusted  them ;  he  straight- 
ened his  collar,  and  re-tied  his  cravat.  Then  pouring  a 
little  water  on  his  handkerchief,  he  passed  it  over  his  face, 
bathing  his  eyes  which  were  greatly  inflamed.  Then  he  en- 


174  THE  LE ROUGE  CASK. 

deavoured  to  smooth  his  beard  and  hair.  He  had  no  idea 
that  four  lynx  eyes  were  fixed  upon  him  all  the  while. 

"Good!"  murmured  the  young  detective:  "see  how 
our  cock  sticks  up  his  comb,  and  smooths  his  feathers  1  " 

"  I  told  you,"  put  in  Balan,  "  that  he  was  only  stag- 
gered. Hush !  he  is  speaking,  I  believe." 

But  they  neither  surprised  one  of  those  disordered  gest- 
ures nor  one  of  those  incoherent  speeches,  which  almost 
always  escape  from  the  feeble  when  excited  by  fear,  or 
from  the  imprudent  ones  who  believe  in  the  discretion  of 
their  cells.  One  word  alone,  "  honour,"  reached  the  ears 
of  the  two  spies. 

"  These  rascals  of  rank,"  grumbled  Balan,  "  always  have 
this  word  in  their  mouths.  That  which  they  most  fear  is 
the  opinion  of  some  dozen  friends,  and  several  thousand 
strangers,  who  read  the  '  Gazette  des  Tribunaux.'  They 
only  think  of  their  own  heads  later  on." 

When  the  gendarmes  came  to  conduct  Albert  before  the 
investigating  magistrate,  they  found  him  seated  on  the  side 
of  his  bed,  his  feet  pressed  upon  the  iron  rail,  his  elbows 
on  his  knees,  and  his  head  buried  in  his  hands.  He  rose, 
as  they  entered,  and  took  a  few  steps  towards  them  ;  but 
his  throat  was  so  dry  that  he  was  scarcely  able  to  speak. 
He  asked  for  a  moment,  and,  turning  towards  the  little 
table,  he  filled  and  drank  two  large  glassfuls  of  water  in 
succession.  "  I  am  ready  !  "  he  then  said.  And,  with  a 
firm  step,  he  followed  the  gendarmes  along  the  passage 
which  led  to  the  Palais  de  Justice. 

M.  Daburon  was  just  then  in  great  anguish.  He  walked 
furiously  up  and  down  -his  office,  awaiting  the  prisoner. 
Again,  and  for  the  twentieth  time  since  morning,  he  re- 
gretted having  engaged  in  the  business.  "  Curse  this  ab- 
surd point  of  honour,  which  I  have  obeyed,"  he  inwardly 
exclaimed.  "  I  in  vain  attempt  to  reassure  myself  by 
the  aid  of  sophisms.  I  was  wrong  in  not  withdrawing. 
Nothing  in  the  world  can  change  my  feelings  towards 
this  young  man.  I  hate  him.  I  am  his  judge ;  and  it  is 
no  less  true,  that  at  one  time  I  longed  to  assassinate 
him.  I  faced  him  with  a  revolver  in  my  hand :  why 
did  I  not  present  it  and  fire  ?  Do  I  know  why  ?  What 
power  held  my  fingert  when  an  almost  insensible  pressure 
would  have  sufficed  to  kill  him  ?  cannot  say.  Why  is 
not  he  the  judge,  and  I  the  assassin  ?  If  the  intention 


THE  LE ROUGE  CASE.  175 

was  as  punishable  as  the  deed,  I  ought  to  be  guillotined. 
And  it  is  under  such  conditions  that  I  dare  examine  him  !  " 
Passing  before  the  door  he  heard  the  heavy  footsteps  of 
the  gendarmes  in  the  passage.  "  It  is  he,"  he  said  aloud , 
and  then  hastily  seated  himself  at  his  table,  bending  over 
his  portfolios,  as  though  striving  to  hide  himself.  If  the 
tall  clerk  had  used  his  eyes,  he  would  have  noticed  the 
singular  spectacle  of  an  investigating  magistrate  more  agi- 
tated than  the  prisoner  he  was  about  to  examine.  But  he 
was  blind  to  all  around  him ;  and,  at  this  moment,  he  was 
only  aware  of  an  error  of  fifteen  centimes,  which  had 
slipped  into  his  accounts,  and  which  he  was  unable  to  rec- 
tify. Albert  entered  the  magistrate's  office  with  his  head 
erect.  His  features  bore  traces  of  great  fatigue  and  of 
sleepless  nights.  He  was  very  pale ;  but  his  eyes  were 
clear  and  sparkling. 

The  usual  questions  which  open  such  examinations  gave 
M.  Daburon  an  opportunity  to  recover  himself.  Fortu- 
nately, he  had  found  time  in  the  morning  to  prepare  a 
plan,  which  he  had  now  simply  to  follow.  "  You  are 
aware,  sir,"  he  commenced  in  a  tone  of  perfect  politeness, 
"  that  you  have  no  right  to  the  name  you  bear  ?  " 

"  I  know,  sir,"  replied  Albert,  "  that  I  am  the  natural 
son  of  M.  de  Commarin.  I  know  further  that  my  father 
would  be  unable  to  recognise  me,  even  if  he  wished  to, 
since  I  was  born  during  his  married  life." 

"  What  were  your  feelings  upon  learning  this  ?  " 

"  I  should  speak  falsely,  sir,  if  I  had  said  I  did  not  feel 
very  bitterly.  When  one  is  in  the  high  position  I  occu- 
pied, the  fall  is  terrible.  However,  I  never  for  a  moment 
entertained  the  thought  of  contesting  M.  Noel  Gerdy's 
rights.  I  always  purposed,  and  still  purpose,  to  yield.  I 
have  so  informed  M.  de  Commarin." 

M.  Daburon  expected  just  such  a  reply;  and  it  only 
strengthened  his  suspicions.  Did  it  not  enter  into  the 
line  of  defence  which  he  had  foreseen  ?  It  was  now  his 
duty  to  seek  some  way  of  demolishing  this  defence,  in 
which  the  prisoner  evidently  meant  to  shut  himself  up  like 
a  tortoise  in  its  shell. 

"  You  could  not  oppose  M.  Gerdy,"  continued  the  mag- 
istrate, "  wi'th  any  chance  of  success.  You  had,  indeed, 
on  your  side,  the  count,  and  your  mother ;  but  M.  Gerdy 


1 76  THE  LEROUGE  CASE. 

was  in  possession  of  evidence  that  was  certain  to  win  his 
cause,  that  of  Widow  Lerouge." 

"  I  have  never  doubted  that,  sir." 

"  Now  continued  the  magistrate,  seeking  to  hide  the 
look  which  he  fastened  upon  Albert,  "justice  supposes 
that,  to  do  away  with  the  only  existing  proof,  you  have 
assassinated  Widow  Lerouge." 

This  terrible  accusation,  terribly  emphasised,  caused  no 
change  in  Albert's  features.  He  preserved  the  same  firm 
bearing,  without  bravado.  "  Before  God,"  he  answered, 
"  and  by  all  that  is  most  sacred  on  earth,  I  swear  to  you, 
sir,  that  I  am  innocent !  I  am  at  this  moment  a  close 
prisoner,  without  communication  with  the  outer  world,  re- 
duced consequently  to  the  most  absolute  helplessness.  It 
is  through  your  probity  that  I  hope  to  demonstrate  my  in- 
nocence." 

"  What  an  actor  !  "  thought  the  magistrate.  "  Can 
crime  be  so  strong  as  this  ? "  He  glanced  over  his  papers, 
reading  certain  passages  of  the  preceding  depositions, 
turning  down  the  corners  of  certain  pages  which  contained 
important  information.  Then  suddenly  he  resumed, 
"  When  you  were*  arrested,  you  cried  out,  '  I  am  lost , ' 
what  did  you  mean  by  that  ? " 

"  Sir,"  replied  Albert,  "  I  remember  having  uttered 
those  words.  When  I  knew  of  what  crime  I  was  accused, 
I  was  overwhelmed  with  consternation.  My  mind  was,  as 
it  were,  enlightened  by  a  glimpse  of  the  future.  In  a  mo- 
ment, I  perceived  all  the  horror  of  my  situation.  I  under- 
stood the  weight  of  the  accusation,  its  probability,  and  the 
difficulties  I  should  have  in  defending  myself.  A  voice 
cried  out  to  me,  '  Who  was  most  interested  in  Claudine's 
death  ! '  And  the  knowledge  of  my  imminent  peril  forced 
from  me  the  exclamation  you  speak  of." 

His  explanation  was  more  than  plausible,  was  possible, 
and  even  likely.  It  had  the  advantage,  too,  of  anticipat- 
ing the  axiom,  "  Search  out  the  one  whom  the  crime  will 
benefit ! "  Tabaret  had  spoken  truly,  when  he  said  that 
they  would  not  easily  make  the  prisoner  confess.  M.  Da- 
buron  admired  Albert's  presence  of  mind,  and  the  re- 
sources of  his  perverse  imagination. 

"  You  do  indeed,"  continued  the  magistrate,  "  appear  to 
have  had  the  greatest  interest  in  this  death.  Moreover,  I 
will  inform  you  that  robbery  was  not  the  object  of  the 


THE  LEKOL'GE  CASE.  177 

crime.  The  things  thrown  into  the  Seine  have  been  re- 
covered. We  know,  also,  that  all  the  widow's  papers  were 
burnt.  Could  they  compromise  any  one  but  yourself  ?  if 
you  know  of  any  one,  speak." 

"  What  can  I  answer,  sir  ?     Nothing." 

"  Have  you  often  gone  to  see  this  woman  ? " 

"  Three  or  four  times  with  my  father." 

"  One  of  your  coachmen  pretends  to  have  driven  you 
there  at  least  ten  times." 

"  The  man  is  mistaken.  But  what  matters  the  number 
of  visits  ? " 

"  Do  you  recollect  the  arrangements  of  the  rooms  ?  Can 
you  describe  them  ?  " 

"  Perfectly,  sir  :  there  were  two.  Claudine  slept  in  the 
back  room." 

"  You  were  in  no.  way  a  stranger  to  Widow  Lerouge. 
If  you  had  knocked  one  evening  at  her  window-shutter,  do 
you  think  she  would  have  let  you  in  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  sir,  and  -eagerly." 

"  You  have  been  unwell  these  last  few  days  ?  " 

"  Very  unwell,  to  say  the  least,  sir.  My  body  bent  un- 
der the  weight  of  a  burden  too  great  for  my  strength.  It 
was  not,  however,  for  Want  of  courage." 

"  Why  did  you  forbid  your  valet,  Lubin,  to  call  in  the 
doctor?" 

"  Ah,  sir,  how  could  the  doctor  cure  my  disease*?  All 
his  science  could  not  make  me  the  legitimate  son  of  the 
Count  de  Commarin." 

"  Some  very  singular  remarks  made  by  you  were  over- 
heard. You  seemed  to  be  no  longer  interested  in  anything 
concerning  your  home.  You  destroyed  a  large  number  of 
papers  and  letters." 

"  I  had  decided  to  leave  the  count,  sir.  My  resolution 
explains  my  conduct." 

Albert  replied  promptly  to  the  magistrate's  questions, 
without  the  least  embarrassment,  and  in  a  confident  tone. 
His  voice,  which  was  very  pleasant  to  the  ear,  did  not  trem- 
ble. It  concealed  no  emotion  ;  it  retained  its  pure  and  vibra- 
ting sound.  M.  Daburon  deemed  it  wise  to  suspend  the 
examination  for  a  short  time.  With  so  cunning  an  adver- 
sary, he  was  evidently  pursuing  a  false  course.  To 
proceed  in  detail  was  folly;  he  neither  intimidated  the 


1-8  THE  LEROL'GE  CASE. 

prisoner,  nor  made  him  break  through  his  reserve.    It  was 
necessary  to  take  him  unawares. 

"  Sir,"  resumed  the  magistrate,  abruptly,  "  tell  me  exactly 
how  you  passed  your  time  last  Tuesday  evening,  from  six 
o'clock  until  midnight  ?  " 

For  the  first  time,  Albert  seemed  disconcerted.  His 
glance,  which  had,  till  then,  been  fixed  upon  the  magistrate, 
wavered.  "During  Tuesday  evening,"  he  stammered,  re- 
peating the  phrase  to  gain  time. 

"  I  have  him,"  thought  the  magistrate,  starting  with  joy, 
and  then  added  aloud,  "  yes,  from  six  o'clock  until  mid- 
night." 

"  I  am  afraid,  sir,"  answered  Albert,  "  it  will  be  difficult 
for  me  to  satisfy  you.  I  haven't  a  very  good  memory." 

"  Oh,  don't  tell  me  that !  "  interrupted  the  magistrate. 
"  If  I  had  asked  what  you  were  doing  three  months  ago, 
on  a  certain  evening,  and  at  a  certain  hour,  I  could  under- 
stand your  hesitation  ;  but  this  is  about  Tuesday,  and  it  is 
now  Friday.  Moreover,  this  day,  so  close,  was  the  last  of 
the  carnival ;  it  was  Shrove  Tuesday.  That  circumstance 
ought  to  help  your  memory." 

"  That  evening,  I  went  out  walking,"  murmured  Al- 
bert. 

"  Now,"  continued  the  magistrate,  "  where  did  you 
dine  ? " 

"  At  home,  as  usual." 

"  No,  not  as  usual.  At  the  end  of  your  meal,  you  asked 
for  a  bottle  of  Bordeaux,  of  which  you  drank  the  whole. 
You  doubtless  had  need  of  some  extra  excitement  for  your 
subsequent  plans." 

"  I  had  no  plans,"  replied  the  prisoner  with  very  evi- 
dent uneasiness. 

"  You  make  a  mistake.  Two  friends  came  to  seek  you. 
You  replied  to  them,  before  sitting  down  to  dinner,  that 
you  had  a  very  important  engagement  to  keep." 

"That  was  only  a  polite  way  of  getting  rid  of  them." 

"Why?" 

"Can  you  not  understand,  sir ?  I  was  resigned,  but 
not  comforted.  I  was  learning  to  get  accustomed  to  the 
terrible  blow.  Would  not  one  seek  solitude  in  the  great 
crisis  of  one's  life  ?  " 

"  The  prosecution  pretends  that  you  wished  to  be  left 
alone,  that  you  might  go  to  La  Jonchere.  During  the  day, 


THE  LEKOUUK  CAS  I:.  179 

you  said,  '  She  can  not  resist  me.'  Of  whom  were  you 
speaking  ?  " 

"  Of  some  one  to  whom  I  had  written  the  evening  before, 
and  who  had  replied  to  me.  I  spoke  the  words,  with  her 
letter  still  in  my  hands." 

'  This  letter  was,  then,  from  a  woman  ? " 

'  Yes." 

'  What  have  you  done  with  it  ?  " 

'  I  have  burnt  it." 

'This  precaution  leads  one  to  suppose  that  you  con- 
sidered the  letter  compromising." 

"  Not  at  all,  sir  ;  it  treated  entirely  of  private  matters." 

M.  Daburon  was  sure  that  this  letter  came  from  Made- 
moiselle d'Arlange.  Should  he  nevertheless  ask  the 
question,  and  again  hear  pronounced  the  name  of  Claire, 
which  always  aroused  such  painful  emotions  within  him  ? 
He  ventured  to  do  so,  leaning  over  his  papers,  so  that  the 
prisoner  could  not  detect  his  emotion.  "  From  whom  did 
this  letter  come  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  From  one  whom  I  can  not  name." 

"  Sir,"  said  the  magistrate  severely,  "  I  will  not  conceal 
from  you  that  your  position  is  greatly  compromised.  Do 
not  aggravate  it  by  this  culpable  reticence.  You  are  heie 
to  tell  everything,  sir." 

"My  own  affairs,  yes,  not  those  of  others." 

Albert  gave  this  last  answer  in  a  dry  tone.  He  was 
giddy,  flurried,  exasperated,  by  the  prying  and  irritating 
mode  of  the  examination,  which  scarcely  gave  him  time  to 
breathe.  The  magistrate's  questions  fell  upon  him  more 
thickly  than  the  blows  of  the  blacksmith's  hammer  upon 
the  red-hot  iron  which  he  is  anxious  to  beat  into  shape  be- 
fore it  cools.  The  apparent  rebellion  of  his  prisoner  troub- 
led M.  Daburon  a  great  deal.  He  was  further  extremely 
surprised  to  find  the  discernment  of  the  old  detective  at 
fault ;  just  as  though  Tabaret  were  infallible.  Tabaret  had 
predicted  an  unexceptionable  alibi ;  and  this  alibi  was  not 
forthcoming.  Why  ?  Had  this  subtle  villain  something  bet- 
ter than  that  ?  What  artful  defence  had  he  to  fall  back 
upon  ?  Doubtless  he  kept  in  reserve  some  unforeseen 
stroke,  perhaps  irresistible. 

"  Gently,"  thought  the  magistrate.  "  I  have  not  got  him 
yet."  Then  he  quickly  added  aloud  :  "  Continue.  After 
dinner  what  did  you  do  ?  " 


I  So  THE  I.  E ROUGE  C 

"  I  Vvent  out  for  a  walk." 

"  Not  immediately.  The  bottle  emptied,  you  smoked  a 
cigar  in  the  dining-room,  which  was  so  unusual  as  to  be 
noticed.  What  kind  of  cigars  do  you  usually  smoke  ?  " 

"  Trabucos." 

"  Do  you  not  use  a  cigar-holder,  to  keep  your  lips  from 
contact  with  the  tobacco  ? " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  Albert,  much  surprised  at  this  series 
of  questions. 

"  At  what  time  did  you  go  out  ?  " 

"  About  eight  o'clock." 

"  Did  you  carry  an  umbrella  ? " 

"  Yes." 

"  Where  drd  you  go  ?  " 

"  I  walked  about." 

"  Alone,  without  any  object,  all  the  evening  ? " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Now  trace  out  your  wanderings  for  me  very  carefully." 

"  Ah,  sir,  that  is  very  difficult  to  do  !  I  went  out 
simply  to  walk  about,  for  the  sake  of  exercise,  to  drive 
away  the  torpor  which  had  depressed  me  for  three  days. 
I  don't  know  whether  you  can  picture  to  yourself  my 
exact  condition.  I  was  half  out  of  my  mind.  I  walked 
about  at  hazard  along  the  quays.  I  wandered  through 
the  streets, — " 

"  All  that  is  very  improbable,"  interrupted  the  magis- 
trate. M.  Daburon,  however,  knew  that  it  was  at  least 
possible.  Had  not  he  himself,  one  night,  in  a  similar 
condition,  traversed  all  Paris  ?  What  reply  could  he 
have  made,  had  some  one  asked  him  next  morning  where 
he  had  been,  except  that  he  had  not  paid  attention,  and 
did  not  know  ?  But  he  had  forgotten  this ;  and  his 
previous  hesitations,  too,  had  all  vanished.  As  the  in- 
quiry advanced,  the  fever  of  investigation  took  possession 
of  him.  He  enjoyed  the  emotions  of  the  struggle,  his 
passion  for  his  calling  became  stronger  than  ever.  He 
was  again  an  investigating  magistrate,  like  the  fencing 
master,  who,  once  practising  with  his  dearest  friend, 
became  excited  by  the  clash  of  the  weapons,  and,  for- 
getting himself,  killed  him. 

"  So,"  resumed  M.  Daburon,  "  you  met  absolutely  no 
one  who  can  affirm  that  he  saw  you  ?  You  did  not  speak 
to  a  living  soul  ?  You  entered  no  place,  not  even  a  cafe, 


THE  LEROUGE  CASE.  181 

or  a  theatre,  or  a  tobacconist's  to  light  one  of  your 
favourite  trabucos  ? " 

"  No,  sir." 

"  Well,  it  is  a  great  misfortune  for  you,  yes,  a  very 
great  misfortune  ;  for  I  must  inform  you,  that  it  was  pre- 
cisely during  this  Tuesday  evening,  between  eight  o'clock 
and  midnight,  that  Widow  Lerouge  was  assassinated. 
Justice  can  point  out  the  exact  hour.  Again,  sir,  in  your 
own  interest,  I  recommend  you  to  reflect, — to  make  a 
strong  appeal  to  your  memory." 

This  pointing  out  of  the  exact  day  and  hour  of  the 
murder  seemed  to  astound  Albert.  He  raised  his  hand 
to  his  forehead  with  a  despairing  gesture.  However  he 
replied  in  a  calm  voice, — "  I  am  very  unfortunate,  sir  : 
but  I  can  recollect  nothing." 

M.  Daburon's  surprise  was  immense.  What,  not  an 
alibi  ?  Nothing  ?  This  could  be  no  snare  nor  system  of 
defence.  Was,  then,  this  man  as  cunning  as  he  had 
imagined  ?  Doubtless.  Only  he  had  been  taken  un- 
awares. He  had  never  imagined  it  possible  for  the 
accusation  to  fall  upon  him ;  and  it  was  almost  by  a 
miracle  it  had  done  so.  The  magistrate  slowly  raised, 
one  by  one,  the  large  pieces  of  paper  that  covered  the 
articles  seized  in  Albert's  rooms.  "  We  will  pass,"  he 
continued,  "  to  the  examination  of  the  charges  which 
weigh  against  you.  Will  you  please  come  nearer  ?  Do 
you  recognize  these  articles  as  belonging  to  yourself  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  they  are  all  mine." 

"  Well,  take  this  foil.     Who  broke  it  ? " 

"  I,  sir,  in  fencing  with  M.  de  Courtivois,  who  can  bear 
witness  to  it." 

"  He  will  be  heard.     Where  is  the  broken  end  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know.     You  must  ask  Lubin,  my  valet." 

"  Exactly.  He  declares  that  he  has  hunted  for  it, 
and  cannot  find  it.  I  must  tell  you  that  the  victim  re- 
ceived the  fatal  blow  from  the  sharpened  end  of  a  broken 
foil.  This  piece  of  stuff,  on  which  the  assassin  wiped  his 
weapon,  is  a  proof  of  what  I  state." 

"  I  beseech  you,  sir,  to  order  a  most  minute  search  to 
be  made.  It  is  impossible  that  the  other  half  of  the  foil 
is  not  to  be  found." 

"  Orders  shall  be  given  to  that  "effect.  Look,  here  is 
the  exact  imprint  of  the  murderer's  foot  traced  on  this 


iSj  TJIE  LEKOU<JE  CASE. 

sheet  of  paper.  I  will  place  one  of  your  boots  upon  it  ; 
and  the  sole,  as  you  perceive,  fits  the  tracing  with  the 
utmost  precision.  This  plaster  was  poured  into  the  hollow 
left  by  the  heel :  you  observe  that  it  is,  in  all  respects, 
similar  in  shape  to  the  heels  of  your  own  boots.  I  per- 
ceive, too,  the  mark  of  a  peg,  which  appears  in  both." 

Albert  followed  with  marked  anxiety  every  movement 
of  the  magistrate.  It  was  plain  that  he  was  struggling 
against  a  growing  terror.  Was  he  attacked  by  that  fright 
which  overpowers  the  guilty  when  they  see  themselves  on 
the  point  of  being  confounded.  To  all  the  magistrate's 
remarks,  he  answered  in  a  low  voice, — "  It  is  true  — 
perfectly  true." 

"  That  is  so,"  continued  M.  Daburon  ;  "  yet  listen 
further,  before  attempting  to  defend  yourself.  The  crim- 
inal had  an  umbrella.  The  end  of  this  umbrella  sank  in 
the  clayey  soil ;  the  round  of  wood  which  is  placed  at 
the  end  of  the  silk,  was  found  moulded  in  the  clay. 
Look  at  this  clod  of  clay,  raised  with  the  utmost  care  ; 
and  now  look  at  your  umbrella.  Compare  the  rounds. 
Are  they  alike,  or  not  ?  " 

"  These  things,  sir,"  attempted  Albert,  "  are  manu- 
factured in  large  quantities." 

"  Well,  we  will  pass  over  that  proof.  Look  at  this 
cigar  end,  found  on  the  scene  of  the  crime,  and  tell  me 
of  what  brand  it  is,  and  how  it  was  smoked." 

"  It  is  a  trabucos,  and  was  smoked  in  a  cigar-holder." 

"  Like  these  ?  "  persisted  the  magistrate,  pointing  to 
the  cigars  and  the  amber  and  meerschaum-holders  found 
in  the  viscount's  library. 

"  Yes  !  "  murmured  Albert,  "  it  is  a  fatality, — a  strange 
coincidence." 

"  Patience  ;  that  is  nothing,  as  yet.  The  assassin  wore 
gloves.  The  victim,  in  the  death  struggle,  seized  his  hands ; 
and  some  pieces  of  kid  remained  in  her  nails.  These  have 
been  preserved,  and  are  here.  They  are  of  a  lavender 
colour,  are  they  not  ?  Now,  here  are  the  gloves  which  you 
wore  on  Tuesday.  They,  too,  are  lavender,  and  they  are 
frayed.  Compare  these  pieces  of  kid  with  your  own  gloves. 
Do  they  not  correspond  ?  Are  they  not  of  the  same  col- 
our, the  same  skin  ?  " 

It  was  useless  to  deny  it,  equivocate,  or  seek  subterfuges. 
The  evidence  was  there,  and  it  was  irrefutable.  While 


THE  LEROUGE  CASE.  183 

appearing  to  occupy  himself  solely  with  the  objects  lying 
upon  his  table,  M.  Daburon  did  not  lose  sight  of  the  pris- 
oner. Albert  was  terrified.  A  cold  perspiration  bathed 
his  temples,  and  glided  drop  by  drop  down  his  cheeks. 
His  hands  trembled  so  much  that  they  were  of  no  use  to 
him.  la  a  choking  voice  he  kept  repeating  :  "  It  is  horri- 
ble, horrible  !  " 

"  Finally,"  pursued  the  inexorable  magistrate,  "  here  are 
the  trousers  you  wore  on  the  evening  of  the  murder.  .It  is 
plain  that  not  long  ago  they  were  very  wet ;  and,  besides 
the  mud  on  them,  there  are  traces  of  earth.  Besides  that, 
they  are  torn  at  the  knees.  We  will  admit,  for  the  moment, 
that  you  might  not.  remember  where  you  went  on  that  eve- 
ning ;  but  who  would  believe  that  you  do  not  know  where 
you  tore  your  trousers  and  how  you  frayed  your  gloves  !  " 

What  courage  could  resist  such  assaults  ?  Albert's  film- 
ness  and  energy  were  at  an  end.  His  brain  whirled.  He 
fell  heavily  into  a  chair,  exclaiming, — "  It  is  enough  to  drive 
me  mad!" 

"  Do  you  admit,"  insisted  the  magistrate,  whose  gaze 
had  become  firmly  fixed  upon  the  prisoner,  "do  you  admit 
that  Widow  Lerouge  could  only  have  been  stabbed  by  you." 

"  I  admit,"  protested  Albert,  "  that  I  am  the  victim  of 
one  of  those  terrible  fatalities  which  make  men  doubt  the 
evidence  of  their  reason.  I  am  innocent." 

"  Then  tell  me  where  you  passed  Tuesday  evening." 

"Ah,  sir!"  cried  the  prisoner,  "I  should  have  to — " 
But,  restraining  himself,  he  added  in  a  faint  voice,  "  I  have 
made  the  only  answer  that  I  can  make." 

M.  Daburon  rose,  having  now  reached  his  grand  stroke. 
"  It  is,  then,  my  duty,"  said  he,  with  a  shade  of  irony,  "  to 
supply  your  failure  of  memory.  I  am  going  to  remind  you 
of  where  you  went  and  what  you  did.  On  Tuesday  evening, 
at  eight  o'clock,  after  having  obtained  from  the  wine  you 
drank,  the  dreadful  energy  you  needed,  you  left  your  home. 
At  thirty-five  minutes  past  eight,  you  took  the  train  at  the 
St.  Lazare  station.  At  nine  o'clock,  you  alighted  at  the 
station  at  Reuil."  And,  not  disdaining  to  employ  old 
Tabaret's  ideas,  the  investigating  magistrate  repeated 
nearly  word  for  word  the  tirade  improvised  the  night  before 
by  the  amateur  detective. 

He  had  every  reason,  while  speaking,  to  admire  the  old 
fellow's  penetration.  In  all  his  life,  his  eloquence  had 


184  THE  LEROUGE  CASE. 

never  produced  so  striking  an  effect.  Every  sentence, 
every  word,  told.  The  prisoner's  assurance,  already  shaken, 
fell  little  by  little,  just  like  the  outer  coating  of  a  wall  when 
riddled  with  bullets.  Albert  was,  as  the  magistrate  per- 
ceived, like  a  man,  who,  rolling  to  the  bottom  of  a  precipice, 
sees  every  branch  and  every  projecture  which  might  retard 
his  fall  fail  him,  and  who  feels  a  new  and  more  painful 
bruise  each  time  his  body  comes  in  contact  with  them. 

"  And  now,"  concluded  the  investigating  magistrate, 
"  listen  to  good  advice  :  do  not  persist  in  a  system  of  deny- 
ing, impossible  to  sustain.  Give  in.  Justice,  rest  assured, 
is  ignorant  of  nothing  which  it  is  important  to  know.  Be- 
lieve me;  seek  to  deserve  the  indulgence  of  your  judges  ; 
confess  your  guilt." 

M.  Daburon  did  not  believe  that  his  prisoner  would  still 
persist  in  asserting  .his  innocence.  He  imagined  he  would 
be  overwhelmed  and  confounded,  that  he  would  throw 
himself  at  his  feet,  begging  for  mercy.  But  he  was  mis- 
taken. Albert,  in  spite  of  his  great  prostration,  found,  in 
one  last  effort  of  his  will,  sufficient  strength  to  recover  him- 
self and  again  protest, — "  You  are  right,  sir,"  he  said  in  a 
sad,  but  firm  voice  ;  "  everything  seems  to  prove  me  guilty. 
In  your  place,  I  should  have  spoken  as  you  have  done ;  yet 
all  the  same,  I  swear  to  you  that  I  am  innocent." 

"Come  now,  do  you  really — "  began  the  magistrate. 

"  I  am  innocent,"  interrupted  Albert ;  "  and  I  repeat  it, 
without  the  least  hope  of  changing  in  any  way  your  con- 
viction. Yes,  everything  speaks  against  me,  everything, 
even  my  own  bearing  before  you.  It  is  true,  my  courage 
has  been  shaken  by  these  incredible,  miraculous,  over- 
whelming coincidences.  I  am  overcome,  because  I  feel 
the  impossibility  of  proving  my  innocence.  But  I  do  not 
despair.  My  honour  and  my  life  are  in  the  hands  of  God. 
At  this  very  hour  when  to  you  I  appear  lost, — for  I  in  no 
way  deceive  myself,  sir, — I  do  not  despair  of  a  complete 
justification.  I  await  confidently." 

'  What  do  you  mean  ? "  asked  the  magistrate. 

'  Nothing  but  what  I  say,  sir." 

'  So  you  persist  in  denying  your  guilt  ? " 

'  I  am  innocent." 

!  But  this  is  folly—" 

'  I  am  innocent." 

'  Very  well,"  said  M.  Daburon  ;  "  that  is  enough  for  to- 


THE  LR ROUGE  CASE,  185 

day.  You  will  hear  the  official  report  of  your  examination 
read,  and  will  I  hen  be  taken  back  to  solitary  confinement. 
I  exhort  you  to  reflect.  Night  will  perhaps  bring  on  a 
better  feeling ;  if  you  wish  at  any  time  to  speak  to  me, 
send  word,  and  I  will  come  to  you.  I  will  give  orders  to 
that  effect.  You  may  read  now,  Constant." 

When  Albert  had  departed  under  the  escort  of  the  gen- 
darmes, the  magistrate  muttered  in  a  low  tone,  "  There's 
an  obstinate  fellow  for  you."  He  certainly  no  longer 
entertained  the  shadow  of  a  doubt.  To  him,  Albert  was 
as  surely  the  murderer  as  if  he  had  admitted  his  guilt. 
Even  if  he  should  persist  in  his  system  of  denial  to  the  end 
of  the  investigation,  it  was  impossible,  that,  with  the  proofs 
already  in  the  possession  of  the  police,  a  true  bill  should 
not  be  found  against  him.  He  was  therefore  certain  of 
being  committed  for  trial  at  the  assizes.  It  was  a  hundred 
to  one,  that  the  jury  would  bring  in  a  verdict  of  guilty. 
Left  to  himself,  however,  M.  Daburon  did  not  experience 
that  intense  satisfaction,  mixed  with  vanity,  which  he 
ordinarily  felt  after  he  had  successfully  conducted  an 
examination,  and  had  succeeded  in  getting  his  prisoner  into 
the  same  position  as  Albert.  Something  disturbed  and 
shocked  him.  At  the  bottom  of  his  heart,  he  feit  ill  at 
ease.  He  had  triumphed  ;  but  his  victory  gave  him  only 
uneasiness,  pain,  and  vexation,  A  reflection  so  simple  that 
he  could  hardly  understand  why  it  had  not  occurred  to  him 
at  first,  increased  his  discontent,  and  made  him  angry  with 
himself.  "  Something  told  me,"  he  muttered,  "  that  I  was 
wrong  to  undertake  this  business.  I  am  punished  for  not 
having  obeyed  that  inner  voice.  I  ought  to  have  declined 
to  proceed  with  the  investigation.  The  Viscount  de  Com- 
marin,  was,  all  the  same,  certain  to  be  arrested,  imprisoned, 
examined,  confounded,  tried,  and  probably  condemned. 
Then,  being  in  no  way  connected  with  the  trial,  I  could 
have  reappeared  before  Claire.  Her  grier  will  be  great. 
As  her  friend,  I  could  have  soothed  her,  mingled  my  tears 
with  hers,  calmed  her  regrets.  With  time,  she  might  have 
been  consoled,  and  perhaps  have  forgotten  him.  She 
could  not  have  helped  feeling  grateful  to  me,  and  then  who 
knows — ?  While  now,  whatever  may  happen,  I  shall  be  an 
object  of  loathing  to  her  :  she  will  never  be  able  to  endure 
the  sight  of  me.  In  her  eyes  I  shall  always  be  her  lover's 
assassin.  I  have  with  my  own  hands  opened  an  abyss 


i86  THE  LEKOUGE  CASE, 

between  her  and  myself  which  centuries  could  not  fill  up. 
I  have  lost  her  a  second  time,  and  by  my  own  fault."  The 
unhappy  man  heaped  the  bitterest  reproaches  upon  himself. 
He  was  in  despair.  He  had  never  so  hated  Albert, — that 
wretch,  who,  stained  with  a  crime,  stood  in  the  way  of  his 
happiness.  Then  too  he  cursed  old  Tabaret !  Alone,  he 
would  not  have  decided  so  quickly.  He  would  have  waited, 
thought  over  the  matter,  matured  his  decision,  and  certainly 
have  perceived  the  inconveniences,  which  now  occurred  to 
him.  The  old  fellow,  always  carried  away  like  a  badly 
trained  bloodhound,  and  full  of  stupid  enthusiasm,  had 
confused  him,  and  led  him  to  do  what  he  now  so  much 
regretted. 

It  was  precisely  this  unfavorable  moment  that  M.  Taba- 
ret chose  for  reappearing  before  the  magistrate.  He  had 
just  been  informed  of  the  termination  of  the  inquiry ;  and 
he  arrived,  impatient  to  know  what  had  passed,  swelling 
with  curiosity,  and  full  of  the  sweet  hope  of  hearing  of  the 
fulfilment  of  his  predictions.  "What  answers  did  he 
make  ? "  he  asked  even  before  he  had  closed  the  door. 

"  He  is  evidently  guilty,"  replied  the  magistrate,  with  a 
harshness  very  different  to  his  usual  manner. 

Old  Tabaret,  who  expected  to  receive  praises  by  the 
basketful,  was  astounded  at  this  tone  !  It  was  therefore, 
with  great  hesitancy  that  he  offered  his  further  services. 
"  I  have  come,"  he  said  modestly,  "  to  know  if  any  investi- 
gations are  necessary  to  demolish  the  alibi  pleaded  by  the 
prisoner." 

"  He  pleaded  no  alibi,"  replied  the  magistrate,  dryly. 

"  How,"  cried  the  detective,  "  no  alibi  ?  Pshaw  !  I  ask 
pardon  :  he  has  of  course  then  confessed  everything." 

"No,"  said  the  magistrate  impatiently,  "he  has  con- 
fessed nothing.  He  acknowledges  that  the  proofs  are  de- 
cisive :  he  cannot  give  an  account  of  how  he  spent  his  time ; 
but  he  protests  his  innocence." 

In  the  centre  of  the  room,  M.  Tabaret  stood  with  his 
mouth  wide  open,  and  his  eyes  staring  wildly,  and  alto- 
gether in  the  most  grotesque  attitude  his  astonishment 
could  effect.  He  was  literally  thunderstruck.  In  spite  of 
his  anger,  M.  Daburon  could  not  help  smiling :  and  even 
Constant  gave  a  grin,  which  on  his  lips  was  equivalent  to  a 
paroxysm  of  laughter. 

"  Not  an  alibi,  nothing  ? "    murmured  the  old  fellow, 


THE  LE ROUGE  CASE.  187 

"No  explanations?  The  idea!  It  is  inconceivable! 
Not  an  alibi  ?  We  must  then  be  mistaken  :  he  cannot  be 
the  criminal.  That  is  certain  !  " 

The  investigating  magistrate  felt  that  the  old  amateur 
must  have  been  waiting  the  result  of  the  examination  at  the 
wine  shop  round  the  corner,  or  else  that  he  had  gone  mad. 
"  Unfortunately,"  said  he,  "  we  are  not  mistaken.  It  is  but 
too  clearly  shown  that  M.  de  Commarin  is  the  murderer. 
However,  if  you  like,  you  can  ask  Constant  for  his  report 
of  the  examination,  and  read  it  over  while  I  put  these 
papers  in  order." 

"Very  well,"  said  the  old  fellow  with  feverish  anxiety. 

He  sat  down  in  Constant's  chair,  and,  leaning  his  elbows 
on  the  table,  thrusting  his  hands  in  his  hair,  he  in  less 
than  no  time  read  the  report  through.  When  he  had  fin- 
ished, he  arose  with  pale  and  distorted  features.  "  Sir," 
said  he  to  the  magistrate  in  a  strange  voice,  "  I  have  been 
the  involuntary  cause  of  a  terrible  mistake.  This  man  is 
innocent." 

"  Come,  come,"  said  M.  Daburon,  without  stopping  his 
preparations  for  departure,  "  you  are  going  out  of  your 
mind,  my  dear  M.  Tabaret.  How,  after  all  that  you  have 
read  there,  can — " 

"  Yes,  sir,  yes  :  it  is  because  I  have  read  this  that  I 
entreat  you  to  pause,  or  we  shall  add  one  more  mistake  to 
the  sad  list  of  judicial  errors.  Read  this  examination  over 
carefully ;  there  is  not  a  reply  but  which  declares  this  un- 
fortunate man  innocent,  not  a  word  but  which  throws  out 
a  ray  of  light.  And  he  is  still  in  prison,  still  in  solitary 
confinement? " 

"  He  is  ;  and  there  he  will  remain,  if  you  please,"  inter- 
rupted the  magistrate.  "  It  becomes  you  well  to  talk  in 
this  manner,  after  the  way  you  spoke  last  night,  when  I 
hesitated  so  much." 

"But,  sir,"  cried  the  old  detective,  "  I  still  say  precisely 
the  same.  Ah,  wretched  Tabaret !  all  is  lost  ,  no  one  un- 
derstands you.  Pardon  me,  sir,  if  I  lack  the  respect  due 
to  you;  but  you  have  not  grasped  my  method.  It  is,  how- 
ever, very  simple.  Given  a  crime,  with  all  the  circum- 
stances and  details,  I  construct,  bit  by  bit,  a  plan  of  accu- 
sation, which  I  do  not  guarantee  until  it  is  entire  and  per- 
fect. If  a  man  is  found  to  whom  this  plan  applies  exactly 
in  every  particular  the  author  of  the  crime  is  found  :  other- 


188  THE  LEROUGE  CASE. 

wise,  one  has  laid  hands  upon  an  innocent  person.  It  is 
not  sufficient  that  such  and  such  particulars  seem  to  point 
to  him ;  it  must  be  all  or  nothing.  This  is  infallible. 
Now,  in  this  case,  how  have  I  reached  the  culprit  ? 
Through  proceeding  by  inference  from  the  known  to  the 
unknown.  I  have  examined  his  work ;  and  I  have  formed 
an  idea  of  the  worker.  Reason  and  logic  lead  us  to  what  ? 
To  a  villain,  determined,  audacious,  and  prudent,  versed 
in  the  business.  And  do  you  think  that  such  a  man  would 
neglect  a  precaution  that  would  not  be  omitted  by  the  stupid- 
est tyro  ?  It  is  inconceivable.  What !  this  man  is  so 
skillful  as  to  leave  such  feeble  traces  that  they  escape  Gev- 
rol's  practised  eye,  and  you  think  he  would  risk  his  safety 
by  leaving  an  entire  night  unaccounted  for  ?  It's  impossi- 
ble !  I  am  as  sure  of  my  system  as  of  a  sum  that  has 
been  proved.  The  assassin  has  an  alibi.  Albert  has 
pleaded  none  ;  then  he  is  innocent." 

M.  Daburon  surveyed  the  detective  pityingly,  much  as  he 
would  have  looked  at  a  remarkable  monomaniac.  When 
the  old  fellow  had  finished,  "  My  worthy  M.  Tabaret,"  the 
magistrate  said  to  him :  "  you  have  but  one  fault.  You 
err  through  an  excess  of  subtlety,  accord  too  freely  to 
others  the  wonderful  sagacity  with  which  you  yourself 
are  endowed.  Our  man  has  failed  in  prudence,  simply 
because  he  believed  his  rank  would  place  him  above  sus- 
picion." 

"No,  sir,  no,  a  thousand  times  no.  My  culprit, — the 
true  one, — he  whom  we  have  missed  catching,  feared  every- 
thing. Besides,  does  Albert  defend  himself  ?  No.  He  is 
overwhelmed  because  he  perceives  coincidences  so  fatal 
that  they  appear  to  condemn  him,  without  a  chance  of  es 
cape.  Does  he  try  to  excuse  himself  ?  No.  He  simply 
replies, 'It  is  terrible.'  And  yet  all  through  his  examina- 
tion J  feel  reticence  that  I  cannot  explain." 

"  I  can  explain  it  very  easily  ;  and  I  am  as  confident  as 
though  he  had  confessed  everything.  I  have  more  than 
sufficient  proofs  for  that." 

"  Ah,  sir,  proofs  !  There  are  always  enough  of  those 
against  an  arrested  man.  They  existed  against  every  in- 
nocent man  who  was  ever  condemned.  Proofs  !  Why,  I 
had  them  in  quantities  against  Kaiser,  the  poor  little 
tailor,  who — " 

"Well,"  interrupted  the  magistrate,  hastily,  "if  it  is  not 


THE  LEROUGE  CASE.  189 

he,  the  most  interested  one,  who  committed  the  crime, 
who  then  is  it  ?  His  father,  the  Count  de  Commarin  ?  " 

"  No  :  the  true  assassin  is  a  young  man." 

M.  Daburon  had  arranged  his  papers,  and  finished  his 
preparations.  He  took  up  his  hat,  and,  as  he  prepared  to 
leave,  replied  :  "  You  must  then  see  that  I  am  right ! 
Come,  good-bye,  M.  Tabaret,  and  make  haste  and  get 
rid  of  all  your  foolish  ideas.  To-morrow  we  will  talk  the 
whole  matter  over  again.  I  am  rather  tired  to-night." 
Then  he  added,  addressing  his  clerk,  "  Constant,  look  in 
at  the  record  office,  in  case  the  prisoner  Commarin  should 
wish  to  speak  to  me." 

He  moved  towards  the  door ;  but  M.  Tabaret  barred  his 
exit.  "  Sir,"  said  the  old  man,  "  in  the  name  of  heaven 
listen  to  me  !  He  is  innocent,  I  swear  to  you.  Help  me, 
then,  to  find  the  real  culprit.  Sir,  think  of  your  remorse 
should  you  cause  an — " 

But  the  magistrate  would  not  hear  more.  He  pushed 
old  Tabaret  quickly  aside,  and  hurried  out.  The  old  man 
now  turned  to  Constant.  He  wished  to  convince  him. 
Lost  trouble  :  the  tall  clerk  hastened  to  put  his  things 
away,  thinking  of  his  soup,  which  was  getting  cold.  So 
that  M.  Tabaret  soon  found  himself  locked  out  of  the 
room  and  alone  in  the  dark  passage.  All  the  usual  sounds 
of  the  Palais  had  ceased :  the  place  was  silent  as  the  tomb. 
The  old  detective  desperately  tore  his  hair  with  both  hands. 
"Ah !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  Albert  is  innocent ;  and  it  is  I  who 
have  cast  suspicion  upon  him.  It  is  I,  fool  that  I  am,  who 
have  infused  into  the  obstinate  spirit  of  this  magistrate  a 
conviction  that  I  can  no  longer  destroy.  He  is  innocent, 
and  is  yet  enduring  the  most  horrible  anguish.  Suppose 
he  should  commit  suicide  !  There  have  been  instances  of 
wretched  men,  who  in  despair  at  being  falsely  accused 
have  killed  themselves  in  their  cells.  Poor  boy !  But  I 
will  not  abandon  him.  I  have  ruined  him  :  I  will  save 
him  !  I  must,  I  will  find  the  culprit ;  and  he  shall  pa) 
dearly  for  my  mistake,  the  scoundrel !  " 

XIII. 

AFTER  seeing  the  Count  de  Commarin  safely  in  his  car- 
riage at  the  entrance  of  the  Palais  de  Justice,  Noel  Gerdy 
seemed  inclined  to  leave  him.  Resting  one  hand  against 


190  THE  LEROUGE  CASE. 

the  half-opened  carriage  door,  he  bowed  respectfully,  and 
said  :  "  When,  sir,  shall  I  have  the  honor  of  paying  my 
respects  to  you  ? " 

"  Come  with  me  now,"  said  the  old  nobleman. 

The  barrister,  still  leaning  forward,  muttered  some  ex- 
cuses. He  had,  he  said,  important  business  :  he  must  posi- 
tively return  home  at  once. 

"Come,"  repeated  the  count,  in  a  tone  which  admitted 
of  no  reply. 

Noel  obeyed. 

"  You  have  found  your  father,"  said  M.  de  Commarin  in 
a  low  tone  ;  "  but  I  must  warn  you,  that  at  the  same  time 
you  lose  your  independence." 

The  carriage  started  ;  and  only  then  did  the  count  notice 
that  Noel  had  very  modestly  seated  hirflself  opposite  him. 
This  humility  seemed  to  displease  him  greatly.  "  Sit  here 
by  my  side,  sir,"  he  exclaimed  ;  "  are  you  not  my  son  ?  " 

The  barrister,  without  replying,  took  his  seat  by  the  side 
of  the  terrible  old  man,  but  occupied  as  little  room  as  pos- 
sible. He  had  been  very  much  upset  by  his  interview 
with  M.  Daburon  ;  for  he  retained  none  of  his  usual  assur- 
ance, none  of  that  exterior  coolness  by  which  he  was  ac« 
customed  to  conceal  his  feelings.  Fortunately,  the  ride 
gave  him  time  to  breathe,  and  to  recover  himself  a  little. 
On  the  way  from  the  Palais  de  Justice  to  the  De  Commarin 
mansion,  not  a  word  passed  between  the  father  and  son. 
When  the  carriage  stopped  before  the  steps  leading  to  the 
principal  entrance,  and  the  count  got  out  with  Noel's  as- 
sistance, there  was  great  commotion  among  the  servants. 
There  were,  it  is  true,  few  of  them  present,  nearly  all  hav- 
ing been  summoned  to  the  Palais  ;  but  the  count  and  the 
barrister  had  scarcely  disappeared,  when,  as  if  by  enchant- 
ment, they  were  all  assembled  in  the  hall.  They  came 
from  the  garden,  the  stables,  the  cellar,  and  the  kitchen. 
Nearly  all  bore  marks  of  their  calling.  A  young  groom 
appeared  with  his  wooden  shoes  filled  with  straw,  shuffling 
about  on  the  marble  floor  like  a  mangy  dog  on  a  Gobelin 
tapestry.  One  of  them  recognised  Noel  as  the  visitor  of 
the  previous  Sunday  ;  and  that  was  enough  to  set  fire  to  all 
these  gossip-mongers,  thirsting  for  scandal. 

Since  morning,  moreover,  the  unusual  events  at  the  De 
Commarin  mansion  had  caused  a  great  stir  in  society.  A 
thousand  stories  were  circulated,  talked  over,  corrected, 


THE  LEKOL'GE  CASE.  I9t 

and  added  to  by  the  ill-natured  and  malicious, — some 
abominably  absurd,  others  simply  idiotic.  Twenty  people, 
very  noble  and  still  more  proud,  had  not  been  above  send- 
ing their  most  intelligent  servants  to  pay  a  little  visit 
among  the  count's  retainers,  for  the  sole  purpose  of  learn- 
ing something  positive.  As  it  was,  nobody  knew  anything ; 
and  yet  everybody  pretended  to  be  fully  informed.  Let 
any  one  explain  who  can  this  very  common  phenomenon  : 
A  crime  is  committed ;  justice  arrives,  wrapped  in  mystery ; 
the  police  are  still  ignorant  of  almost  everything ;  and  yet 
details  of  the  most  minute  character  are  already  circulated 
about  the  streets. 

"  So,"  said  a  cook,  "  that  tall  dark  fellow  with  the  whis- 
kers is  the  count's  true  son  !  " 

"  You  are  right,"  said  one  of  the  footmen  who  had 
accompanied  M.  de  Commarin  ;  "  as  for  the  other,  he  is 
no  more  his  son  than  Jean  here ;  who,  by  the  way,  will  be 
kicked  out  of  doors,  if  he  is  caught  in  this  part  of  the 
house  with  his  dirty  working-shoes  on." 

"  What  a  romance,"  exclaimed  Jean,  supremely  indiffer- 
ent to  the  danger  which  threatened  him. 

"  Such  things  constantly  occur  in  great  families,"  said 
the  cook. 

"  How  ever  did  it  happen  ?  '•' 

"  Well,  you  see,  one  day,  long  ago,  when  the  countess 
who  is  now  dead  was  out  walking  with  her  little  son,  who 
was  about  six  months  old,  the  child  was  stolen  by  gipsies. 
The  poor  lady  was  full  of  grief;  but  above  all,  was  greatly 
afraid  of  her  husband,  who  was  not  over  kind.  What  did 
she  do  ?  She  purchased  a  brat  from  a  woman,  who  hap- 
pened to  be  passing ;  and,  never  having  noticed  his  child, 
the  count  has  never  known  the  difference." 
"  But  the  assassination  !  " 

"  That's  very  simple.  When  the  woman  saw  her  brat 
in  such  a  nice  berth,  she  bled  him  finely,  and  has  kept  up 
a  system  of  blackmailing  all  along.  The  viscount  had 
nothing  left  for  himself.  So  he  resolved  at  last  to  put  an 
end  to  it,  and  come  to  a  final  settling  with  her." 

"  And  the  other,  who  is  up  there,  the  dark  fellow  ?  " 

The  orator  would  have  gone  on,  without  doubt,  giving 

the  most  satisfactory  explanations  of  everything,  if  he  had 

not  been  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  M.  Lubin,  who 

came  from  Palais  in  company  of  young  Joseph.     His  sue 


192  THE  LE ROUGE  CASE. 

cess,  so  brilliant  up  to  this  time,  was  cut  s*hort,  just  like 
that  of  a  second-rate  singer  when  the  star  of  the  evening 
comes  on  the  stage.  The  entire  assembly  turned  towards 
Albert's  valet,  all  eyes  questioning  him.  He  of  course 
knew  all,  he  was  the  man  they  wanted.  He  did  not  take 
advantage  of  his  position,  and  keep  them  waiting. 

"  What  a  rascal  !  "  he  exclaimed  at  first.  "What  a  vil- 
lainous fellow  is  this  Albert !  "  He  entirely  did  away  with 
the  "  Mr."  and  the  "  Viscount,"  and  met  with  general 
approval  for  doing  so.  "  However,"  he  added,  "  I  always 
had  my  doubts.  The  fellow  didn't  please  me  by  half. 
You  see  now  to  what  we  are  exposed  every  day  in  our  pro- 
fession, and  it  is  dreadfully  disagreeable.  The  magistrate 
did  not  conceal  it  from  me.  '  M.  Lubin,'  said  he,  '  it  is 
very  sad  for  a  man  like  you  to  have  waited  on  such  a 
scoundrel.'  For  you  must  know,  that,  besides  an  old 
woman  over  eighty  years  old,  he  also  assassinated  a  young 
girl  of  twelve.  The  little  child,  the  magistrate  told  me, 
was  chopped  into  bits." 

"  Ah  !  "  put  in  Joseph :  "  he  must  have  been  a  great  fool. 
Do  people  do  those  sort  of  things  themselves  when  they  are 
rich,  and  when  there  are  so  many  poor  devils  who  only 
ask  to  gain  their  living  ?  " 

"  Pshaw  ! "  said  M.  Lubin  in  a-knowing  tone  ;  "  you  will 
see  him  come  out  of  it  as  white  as  snow.  These  rich 
men  can  do  anything." 

"  Anyhow,"  said  the  cook,  "  I'd  willingly  give  a  month's 
wages  to  be  a  mouse,  and  to  listen  to  what  the  count  and 
the  tall  dark  fellow  are  talking  about.  Suppose  some  one 
went  up  and  tried  to  find  out  what  is  going  on." 

This  proposition  did  not  meet  with  the  least  favour. 
The  servants  knew  by  experience  that,  on  important  occa- 
sions, spying  was  worse  than  useless.  M.  de  Commarin 
knew  all  about  servants  from  infancy.  His  study  was, 
therefore,  a  shelter  from  all  indiscretion.  The  sharpest 
ear  placed  at  the  keyhole  could  hear  nothing  of  what  was 
going  on  within,  even  when  the  master  was  in  a  passion, 
and  his  voice  loudest.  One  alone,  Denis,  the  count's 
valet,  had  the  opportunity  of  gathering  information  ;  but 
he  was  well  paid  to  be  discreet,  and  he  was  so.  At 
this  moment,  M.  de  Commarin  was  sitting  in  the  same 
arm-chair  on  which  the  evening  before  he  had  bestowed 
such  furious  blows  while  listening  to  Albert.  As  soon  as 


THE  LEROUGE  CASE.  193 

he  left  his  carriage,  the  old  nobleman  recovered  his  hauti- 
ness.  He  became  even  more  arrogant  in  his  manner, 
than  he  had  been  humble  when  before  the  magistrate,  as 
though  he  were  ashamed  of  what  he  now  considered  an 
unpardonable  weakness.  He  wondered  how  he  could  have 
yielded  to  a  momentary  impulse,  how  his  grief  could  have 
so  basely  betrayed  him.  At  the  remembrance  of  the 
avowals  wrested  from  him  by  a  sort  of  delirium,  he  blushed, 
and  reproached  himself  bitterly.  The  same  as  Albert,  the 
night  before,  Noel  having  fully  recovered  himself,  stood 
erect,  cold  as  marble,  respectful,  but  no  longer  humble. 
The  father  and  son  exchanged  glances  which  had  nothing 
of  sympathy  nor  friendliness.  They  examined  one  another, 
they  almost  measured  each  other,  much  as  two  adversaries 
feel  their  way  with  their  eyes  before  encountering  with 
their  weapons. 

"  Sir,"  said  the  count  at  length  in  a  harsh  voice,  "  hence- 
forth this  house  is  yours.  From  this  moment  you  are  the 
Viscount  de  Commarin  ;  you  regain  possession  of  all  the 
rights  of  which  you  were  deprived.  Listen,  before  you 
thank  me.  I  wish,  at  once,  to  relieve  you  of  all  misunder- 
standing. Remember  this  well,  sir ;  had  I  been  master  of 
the  situation,  I  would  never  have  recognised  you :  Albert 
should  have  remained  in  the  position  in  which  I  placed 
him." 

"  I  understand  you,  sir,"  replied  Noel.  "  I  don't  think 
that  I  could  ever  bring  myself  to  do  an  act  like  that  by 
which  you  deprived  me  of  my  birthright ;  but  I  declare 
that,  if  I  had  the  misfortune  to  do  so,  I  should  afterwards 
have  acted  as  you  have.  Your  rank  was  too  conspicuous 
to  permit  a  voluntary  acknowledgment.  It  was  a  thou- 
sand times  better  to  suffer  an  injustice  to  continue  in 
secret,  than  to  expose  the  name  to  the  comments  of  the 
malicious." 

This  answer  surprised  the  count,  and  very  agreeably  too. 
But  he  would  not  let  his  satisfaction  be  seen,  and  it  was 
in  a  still  harsher  voice  that  he  resumed.  "  I  have  no 
claim,  sir,  upon  your  affection ;  I  do  not  ask  for  it,  but  I 
insist  at  all  times  upon  the  utmost  deference.  It  is  tra- 
ditional in  our  house,  that  a  son  shall  never  interrupt  his 
father  when  he  is  speaking;  that,  you  have  just  been 
guilty  of.  Neither  do  children  judge  their  parents  :  that 
also  you  have  just  done.  When  I  was  forty  years  of  age, 

'3 


194  THE  LEROUGE  CASE. 

my  father  was  in  his  second  childhood  ;  but  I  do  not 
remember  ever  having  raised  my  voice  above  his.  This 
said,  I  continue.  I  provided  the  necessary  funds  for  the 
expenses  of  Albert's  household  completely,  distinct  from 
my  own,  for  he  had  his  own  servants,  horses,  and  car- 
riages ;  and  besides  that  I  allowed  the  unhappy  boy  four 
thousand  francs  a  month.  I  have  decided  in  order  to  put 
a  stop  to  all  foolish  gossip,  and  to  make  your  position  the 
easier,  that  you  should  live  on  a  grander  scale ;  this  mat- 
ter concerns  myself.  Further,  I  will  increase  your  month- 
ly allowance  to  six  thousand  francs ;  which  I  trust  you  will 
spend  as  nobly  as  possible,  giving  the  least  possible  cause 
for  ridicule.  I  cannot  too  strongly  exhort  you  to  the 
utmost  caution.  Keep  close  watch  over  yourself.  Weigh 
your  words  well.  Study  your  slightest  actions.  You  will 
be  the  point  of  observation  of  the  thousands  of  imperti- 
nent idlers  who  compose  our  world  ;  your  blunders  will  be 
their  delight.  Do  you  fence  ? " 

"  Moderately  well." 

"  That  will  do  !     Do  you  ride  ?  " 

"  No ;  but  in  six  months  I  will  be  a  good  horseman,  or 
break  my  neck." 

"  You  must  become  a  horseman,  and  not  break  anything. 
Let  us  proceed.  You  will,  of  course,  not  occupy  Albert's 
apartments.  They  will  be  walled  off,  as  soon  as  I  am  free 
of  the  police.  Thank  heaven !  the  house  is  large.  You 
will  occupy  the  other  wing :  and  there  will  be  a  separate 
entrance  to  your  apartments,  by  another  staircase.  Ser- 
vants, horses,  carriages,  furniture,  such  as  become  a  vis- 
count, will  be  at  your  service,  cost  what  it  may,  within 
forty-eight  hours.  On  the  day  of  your  taking  possession, 
you  must  look  as  though  you  had  been  installed  there  for 
years.  There  will  be  a  great  scandal :  but  that  cannot  be 
avoided.  A  prudent  father  might  send  you  away  for  a  few 
months  to  the  Austrian  or  Russian  courts  :  but,  in  this 
instance,  such  prudence  would  be  absurd.  Much  better  a 
dreadful  outcry,  which  ends  quickly,  than  low  murmurs 
which  last  for  ever.  Dare  public  opinion  ;  and,  in  eight 
days,  it  will  have  exhausted  its  comments,  and  the  story 
will  have  become  old.  So,  to  work  !  This  very  evening 
the  workmen  shall  be  here :  and,  in  the  first  place, 
I  must  present  you  to  my  servants." 

To  put  his  purpose  into  execution,  the  count  moved  to 


THE  LEROUGE  CASE.  195 

touch  the  bell-iope.  Noel  stopped  him.  Since  the  com- 
mencement of  this  interview,  the  barrister  had  wandered  in 
the  regions  of  the  thousand  and  one  nights,  the  wonderful 
lamp  in  his  hand.  The  fairy  reality  cast  into  the  shade 
his  wildest  dreams.  He  was  dazzled  by  the  count's  words, 
and  had  need  of  all  his  reason  to  struggle  against  the  gid- 
diness which  came  over  him,  on  realising  his  great  good 
fortune.  Touched  by  a  magic  wand,  he  seemed  to  awake 
to  a  thousand  novel  and  unknown  sensations.  He  rolled 
in  purple,  and  bathed  in  gold.  But  he  knew  how  to  ap- 
pear unmoved.  His  face  had  contracted  the  habit  of 
guarding  the  secret  of  the  most  violent  internal  excite- 
ment. While  all  his  passions  vibrated  within  him,  he  ap- 
peared to  listen  with  a  sad  and  almost  indifferent  coldness. 
"  Permit  me,  sir,"  he  said  to  the  count  "  without  overstep- 
ping the  bounds  of  the  utmost  respect,  to  say  a  few  words. 
I  am  touched  more  than  I  can  express  by  your  goodness  ; 
and  yet  I  beseech  you,  to  delay  its  manifestation.  The 
proposition  I  am  about  to  suggest  may  perhaps  appear  to 
you  worthy  of  consideration.  It  seems  to  me  that  the  sit- 
uation demands  the  greatest  delicacy  on  my  part.  It  is 
well  to  despise  public  opinion,  but  not  to  defy  it.  I  am 
certain  to  be  judged  with  the  utmost  severity.  If  I  install 
myself  so  suddenly  in  your  house,  what  will  be  said  ?  I 
shall  have  the  appearance  of  a  conqueror,  who  thinks  little, 
so  long  as  he  succeeds,  of  passing  over  the  body  of  the 
conquered.  They  will  reproach  me  with  occupying  the  bed 
still  warm  from  Albert's  body.  They  will  jest  bitterly  at 
my  haste  in  taking  possession.  They  will  certainly  com- 
pare me  to  Albert,  and  the  comparison  will  be  to  my  dis- 
advantage, since  I  should  appear  to  triumph  at  a  time 
when  a  great  disaster  has  fallen  upon  our  house." 

The  count  listened  without  showing  any  signs  of  disap- 
probation, struck  perhaps  by  the  justice  of  these  reasons. 
Noel  imagined  that  his  harshness  was  much  more  feigned 
than  real ;  and  this  idea  encouraged  him. 

"  I  beseech  you  then,  sir,"  he  continued,  "  to  permit  me 
for  the  present  in  no  way  to  change  my  mode  of  living. 
By  not  showing  myself,  I  leave  all  malicious  remarks  to 
waste  themselves  in  air, — I  let  public  opinion  the  better 
familiarise  itself  with  the  idea  of  a  coming  change.  There 
is  a  great  deal  in  not  taking  the  world  by  surprise.  Being 
expected,  I  shall  not  have  the  air  of  an  intruder  on  pre- 


196  7 '//A'  LEKOUUE  CASK. 

senting  myself.  Absent,  I  shall  have  the  advantages 
which  the  unknown  always  possess;  I  shall  obtain  the 
good  opinion  of  all  those  who  have  envied  Albert ;  and  I 
shall  secure  as  champions  all  those  who  would  to-morrow 
assa  1  me,  if  my  elevation  came  suddenly  upon  them.  H 
sides,  by  this  delay,  I  shall  accustom  myself  to  my  abrupt 
change  of  fortune.  I  ought  not  to  bring  into  your  world, 
which  is  now  mine,  the  manners  of  a  parvenu.  My 
name  ought  not  to  inconvenience  me,  like  a  badly  fitting 
coat." 

"  Perhaps  it  would  be  wisest,"  murmured  the  count. 

This  assent,  so  easily  obtained,  surprised  Noel.  He  got 
the  idea  that  the  count  had  only  wished  to  prove  him,  to 
tempt  him.  In  any  case,  whether  he  had  triumphed  by  his 
eloquence,  or  whether  he  had  simply  shunned  a  trap,  he 
had  succeeded.  His  confidence  increased  ;  he  recovered 
all  his  former  assurance. 

"  I  must  add,  sir,"  he  continued,  "  that  there  are  a  few 
matters  concerning  myself  which  demand  my  attention. 
Before  entering  upon  my  new  life,  1  must  think  of  those  1 
am  leaving  behind  me.  I  have  friends  and  clients.  This 
event  has  surprised  me,  just  as  I  am  beginning  to  reap  the 
reward  of  ten  years  of  hard  work  and  perseverance.  I 
have  as  yet  only  sown  ;  I  am  on  the  point  of  reaping.  My 
name  is  already  known  ;  I  have  obtained  some  little  influ- 
ence. I  confess,  without  shame,  that  I  have  heretofore 
professed  ideas  and  opinions  that  would  not  be  suited  to 
this  house  ;  and  it  is  impossible  in  the  space  of  a  day — " 

"  Ah  \  "  interrupted  the  count  in  a  bantering  tone,  "  you 
are  a  liberal.  It  is  a  fashionable  disease.  Albert  also  was 
a  great  liberal." 

"  My  ideas,  sir,"  said  Noel  quickly,  "  were  those  of  every 
intelligent  man  who  wishes  to  succeed.  Besides,  have  not 
all  parties  one  and  the  same  aim — power?  They  merely 
take  different  means  of  reaching  it.  I  will  not  enlarge 
upon  this  subject.  Be  assured,  sir,  that  I  shall  know  how 
to  bear  my  name,  and  think  and  act  as  a  man  of  my  rank 
should." 

"  I  trust  so,"  said  M.  de  Commarin  ;  "  and  I  hope  that 
you  will  never  make  me  regret  Albert.'* 

"  At  least,  sir,  it  will  not  be  my  fault.  But,  since  you 
have  mentioned  the  name  of  that  unfortunate  young  man, 
let  us  occupy  ourselves  about  him." 


THE  LEROUGE  CASE.  197 

The  count  east  a  look  of  distrust  upon  Noel.  "  What 
can  now  be  done  for  Albert  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  What,  sir ! "  cried  Noel  with  ardour,  "  would  you 
abandon  him,  when  he  has  not  a  friend  left  in  the  world  ? 
He  is  still  your  son,  sir,  he  is  my  brother;  for  thirty  years 
he  has  borne  the  name  of  Commarin.  All  the  members 
of  a  family  are  jointly  liable.  Innocent,  or  guilty,  he  has 
a  right  to  count  upon  us  ;  and  we  owe  him  our  assist- 
ance." 

"  What  do  you  then  hope  for,  sir  ?  "  asked  the  count. 

"  To  save  him,  if  he  is  innocent ;  and  I  love  to  believe 
that  he  is.  I  am  a  barrister,  sir,  and  I  wish  to  defend  him. 
I  have  been  told  that  I  have  some  talent ;  in  such  a  cause 
I  must  have.  Yes,  however  strong  the  charges  against 
him  may  be,  I  will  overthrow  them.  I  will  dispel  all 
doubts.  The  truth  shall  burst  forth  at  the  sound  of  my 
voice.  I  will  find  new  accents  to  imbue  the  judges  with 
my  own  conviction.  I  will  save  him,  and  this  shall  be 
my  last  cause." 

"  And  if  he  should  confess,"  said  the  count,  "  if  he  has 
already  confessed  ? " 

"  Then,  sir,"  replied  Noel  with  a  dark  look,  "  I  will 
render  him  the  last  service,  which  in  such  a  misfortune  I 
should  ask  of  a  brother,  I  will  procure  him  the  means  of 
avoiding  judgment." 

"  That  is  well  spoken,  sir,"  said  the  count,  "  very  well, 
my  son  !  " 

And  he  held  out  his  hand  to  Noel,  who  pressed  it,  bow- 
ing a  respectful  acknowledgment.  The  barrister  took  a 
long  breath.  At  last  he  had  found  the  way  to  this  haughty 
noble's  heart ;  he  had  conquered,  he  had  pleased  him. 

"Let  us  return  to  yourself,  sir,"  continued  the  count. 
"  I  yield  to  the  reasons  which  you  have  suggested.  All 
shall  be  done  as  you  desire.  But  do  not  consider  this  a 
precedent.  I  never  change  my  plans,  even  though  they 
are  proved  to  be  bad,  and  contrary  to  my  interests.  But 
at  least  nothing  prevents  your  remaining  here  from  to-day, 
and  taking  your  meals  with  me.  We  will,  first  of  all,  see 
where  you  can  be  lodged,  until  you  formally  take  posses- 
sion of  the  apartments  which  are  to  be  prepared  for  you." 

Noel  had  the  hardihood  to  again  interrupt  the  old  noble- 
man. "  Sir,"  said  he,  "  when  you  bade  me  follow  you 
here,  I  obeyed  you,  as  was  my  duty.  Now  another  and  a 


198  THE  LEROUGE  CASE. 

sacred  duty  calls  me  away.  Madame  Gerdy  is  at  this 
moment  dying.  Ought  I  to  leave  the  deathbed  of  her  \vh « 
filled  my  mother's  place  ?  " 

"  Valerie  !  "  murmured  the  count.  He  leaned  upon  tin 
arm  of  his  chair,  his  face  buried  in  his  hands ;  in  one  mo- 
ment the  whole  past  rose  up  before  him.  "  She  has  clone 
me  great  harm,"  he  murmured,  as  if  answering  his  thoughts. 
"  She  has  ruined  my  whole  life  ;  but  ought  I  to  be  implaca- 
ble ?  She  is  dying  from  the  accusation  which  is  hanging 
over  Albert  our  son.  It  was  I  who  was  the  cause  of  it  all. 
Doubtless,  in  this  last  hour,  a  word  from  me  would  be  a 
great  consolation  to  her.  I  will  accompany  you,  sir." 

Noel  started  at  this  unexpected  proposal.  "Osir!" 
said  he  hastily,  "spare  yourself,  pray,  a  heart-rending 
sight.  Your  going  would  be  useless.  Madame  Gerdy 
exists  probably  still ;  but  her  mind  is  dead.  Her  brain 
was  unable  to  resist  so  violent  a  shock.  The  unfortunate 
woman  would  neither  recognise  nor  understand  you." 

"  Go  then  alone,"  sighed  the  count,  "go,  my  son  ! " 

The  words  "  my  son,"  pronounced  with  a  marked  em- 
phasis, sounded  like  a  note  of  victory  in  Noel's  ears.  He 
bowed  to  take  his  leave.  The  count  motioned  him  to  wait. 
"  In  any  case,"  he  said,  "  a  place  at  table  will  be  set  for 
you  here.  I  dine  at  half-past  six  precisely.  I  shall  be 
glad  to  see  you." 

He  rang.     His  valet  appeared. 

"  Denis,"  said  he,  "  none  of  the  orders  I  may  give  will 
&ilect  this  gentleman.  You  willtell  this  to  all  the  servants. 
This  gentleman  is  at  home  here." 

The  barrister  took  his  leave  ;  and  the  count  felt  great 
comfort  in  being  once  more  alone.  Since  morning,  events 
had  followed  one  another  with  such  bewildering  rapidity 
that  his  thoughts  could  scarcely  keep  pace  with  them. 
At  last,  he  was  able  to  reflect.  "  That,  then,"  said  he  to 
himself,  "  is  my  legitimate  son.  I  am  sure  of  his  birth,  at 
any  rate.  Besides  1  should  be  foolish  to  disown  him,  for 
I  find  him  the  exact  picture  of  myself  r,t  thirty.  He  is  a 
handsome  fellow,  Noel,  very  handsome.  His  features  are 
decidedly  in  his  favour.  He  is  intelligent  and  acute.  He 
knows  how  to  be  humble  without  lowering  himself,  and 
firm  without  arrogance.  His  unexpected  good  fortune 
does  not  turn  his  head.  I  augur  well  of  a  man  who  knows 
how  to  bear  himself  in  prosperity.  He  thinks  well ;  he 


THE  LE ROUGE  CASE.  199 

will  carry  his  title  proudly.  And  yet  I  feel  no  sympathy 
with  him ,  it  seems  to  me  that  I  shall  always  regret  my 
poor  Albert.  1  never  knew  how  to  appreciate  him.  Un 
happy  boy!  To  commit  such  a  vile  crime!  He  must 
have  lost  his  reason.  I  do  not  like  the  look  of  this  one's 
eye.  They  say  that  he  is  perfect.  He  expresses,  at  least, 
the  noblest  and  most  appropriate  sentiments.  He  is  gentle 
and  strong,  magnanimous,  generous,  heroic.  He  is  with 
out  malice,  and  is  ready  to  sacrifice  himself  to  repay  me 
for  what  I  have  done  for  him.  He  forgives  Madame 
Gerdy :  he  loves  Albert.  It  is  enough  to  make  one  dis- 
trust him.  But  all  young  men  now-a-days  are  so.  Ah ! 
we  live  in  a  happy  age.  Our  children  are  -born  free  from 
all  human  shortcomings.  They  have  neither  the  vices, 
the  passions,  nor  the  tempers  of  their  fathers ;  and  these 
precocious  philosophers,  models  of  sagacity  and  virtue, 
are  incapable  of  commiting  the  least  folly.  Alas  !  Albert, 
too,  was  perfect ;  and  he  has  assassinated  Claudine ! 
What  will  this  one  do  ? — All  the  same,"  he  added,  half- 
aloud,  "  I  ought  to  have  accompanied  him  to  see  Valerie  !  " 
And,  although  the  barrister  had  been  gone  at  least  a  good 
ten  minutes,  M.  de  Commarin,  not  realising  how  the  time 
had  passed,  hastened  to  the  window,  in  the  hope  of  seeing 
Noel  in  the  court-yard,  and  calling  him  back. 

But  Noel  was  already  far  away.  On  leaving  the  house, 
he  took  a  cab  in  the  Rue  de  Bourgogne,  and  was  quickly 
driven  to  the  Rue  St.  Lazare.  On  reaching  his  own  door, 
\he  threw  rather  than  gave  five  francs  to  the  driver,  and 
ran  rapidly  up  the  four  flights  of  stairs.  "  Who  has  called 
to  see  me  ? "  he  asked  of  the  servant. 

"  No  one,  sir." 

He  seemed  relieved  from  a  great  anxiety,  and  continued 
in  a  calmer  tone,  "  And  the  doctor  ?  " 

"He  came  this  morning,  sir,"  replied  the  girl,  "while 
you  were  out ,  and  he  did  not  seem  at  all  hopeful.  He 
came  again  just  now,  and  is  still  here." 

"Very  well.  I  will  go  and  speak  to  him.  If  any  one 
calls,  show  them  into  my  study,  and  let  me  know." 

On  entering  Madame  Gerdy's  chamber,  Noel  saw  at  a 
glance  that  no  change  for  the  better  had  taken  place  during 
his  absence.  With  fixed  eyes  and  convulsed  features,  the 
sick  woman  lay  extended  upon  her  back.  She  seemed 
dead,  save  for  the  sudden  starts,  which  shook  her  at  inter 


roj  THE  LEROUGE  CASE. 

vals,  and  disarranged  the  bedclothes.  Above  her  head 
was  placed  a  little  vessel,  filled  with  ice  water,  which  fell 
drop  by  drop  upon  her  forehead,  covered  with  large  bluish 
spots.  The  table  and  mantel-piece  were  covered  with  lit- 
tle pots,  medicine  bottles,  and  half-emptied  glasses.  At 
the  foot  of  the  bed,  a  piece  of  rag  stained  with  blood  showed 
that  the  doctor  had  just  had  recourse  to  leeches.  Near 
the  fireplace,  where  was  blazing  a  large  fire,  a  nun  of  the 
order  of  St.  Vincent  de  Paul  was  kneeling,  watching  a 
saucepan.  She  was  a  young  woman,  with  a  face  whiter 
than  her  cap.  Her  immovably  placid  features,  her  mourn- 
ful look,  betokened  the  renunciation  of  the  flesh,  and  the 
abdication  of  all  independence  of  thought.  Her  heavy 
grey  costume  hung  about  her  in  large  ungraceful  folds. 
Every  time  she  moved,  her  long  chaplet  of  beads  of  col- 
oured box-wood,  loaded  with  crosses  and  copper  medals, 
shook  and  trailed  along  the  floor  with  a  noise  like  a  jing- 
ling of  chains. 

Dr.  Herve  was  seated  on  a  chair  opposite  the  bed,  watch- 
ing, apparently  with  close  attention,  the  nun's  preparations. 
He  jumped  up  as  Noel  entered.  "  At  last  you  are  here," 
he  said,  giving  his  friend  a  strong  grasp  of  the  hand. 

"  I  was  detained  at  the  Palais,"  said  the  barrister,  as  if 
he  felt  the  necessity  of  explaining  his  absence  ;  "  and  I 
have  been,  as  you  may  well  imagine,  dreadfully  anxious." 
He  leant  towards  the  doctor's  ear,  and  in  a  trembling  voice 
asked  :  "  Well,  is  she  at  all  better  ? " 

The  doctor  shook  his  head  with  an  air  of  deep  discour- 
agement. "  She  is  much  worse,"  he  replied :  "  since  morn- 
ing bad  symptoms  have  succeeded  each  other  with  fright- 
ful rapidity."  He  checked  himself.  The  barrister  had 
seized  his  arm  and  was  pressing  it  with  all  his  might. 
Madame  Gerdy  stirred  a  little,  and  a  feeble  groan  escaped 
her. 

"  She  heard  you,"  murmured  Noel. 

"I  wish  it  were  so,"  said  the  doctor;  "it  would  be 
most  encouraging.  But  I  fear  you  are  mistaken.  How- 
ever, we  will  see.  He  went  up  to  Madame  Gerdy,  and, 
whilst  feeling  her  pulse,  examined  her  carefully ;  then, 
with  the  tip  of  his  finger,  he  lightly  raised  her  eyelid.  The 
eye  appeared  dull,  glassy,  lifeless.  "Come,  judge  for  your- 
self ;  take  her  hand,  speak  to  her." 

Noel,  trembling  all  over,  did  as  his  friend  wished.     He 


Tl/E  I.EKOL'GE  CASE.  201 

drew  near,  and,  leaning  over  the  bed,  so  that  his  mouth 
almost  touched  the  sick  woman's  ear,  he  murmured  : 
"  Mother,  it  is  I,  Noel,  your  own  Noel.  Speak  to  me,  make 
some  sign,  do  you  hear  me,  mother  ? " 

It  was  in  vain  ;  she  retained  her  frightful  immobility, 
Not  a  sign  of  intelligence  crossed  her  features. 

"  You  see,"  said  the  doctor,  "  I  told  you  the  truth." 

"  Poor  woman  !  "  sighed  Noel,  "  does  she  suffer  ?  " 

"Not  at  present." 

The  nun  now  rose ;  and  she  too  came  beside  the  bed. 
"  Doctor,"  said  she  :  "  all  is  ready." 

"  Then  call  the  servant,  sister,  to  help  us.  We  are  go' 
ing  to  apply  a  mustard  poultice." 

The  servant  hastened  in.  In  the  arms  of  the  two 
woman,  Madame  Gerdy  was  like  a  corpse,  whom  they  were 
dressing  for  the  last  time.  She  was  as  rigid  as  though  she 
were  dead.  She  must  have  suffered  much  and  long,  poor 
woman,  for  it  was  pitiable  to  see  how  thin  she  was.  The 
nun  herself  was  affected,  although  she  had  become  habitu- 
ated to  the  sight  of  suffering.  How  many  invalids  had 
breathed  their  last  in  her  arms  during  the  fifteen  years 
that  she  had  gone  from  pillow  to  pillow  !  Noel^  during 
this  time,  had  retired  into  the  window  recess,  and  pressed 
his  burning  brow  against  the  panes.  Of  what  was  he  think- 
ing, while  she  who  had  given  him  so  many  proofs  of  ma- 
ternal tenderness  and  devotion  was  dying  a  few  paces  from 
him.  Did  he  regret  her  ?  was  he  not  thinking  rather  of 
the  grand  and  magnificent  existence  which  awaited  him  on 
the  other  side  of  the  river,  at  the  Faubourg  St.  Germain  ? 
He  turned  abruptly  round  on  hearing  his  friend's  voice, 

"  It  is  done,"  said  the  doctor;  "we  have  only  now  to 
wait  the  effect  of  the  mustard.  If  she  feels  it,  it  will  be  a 
good  sign ;  if  it  has  no  effect,  we  will  try  cupping." 

"  And  if  that  does  not  succeed  ?  " 

The  doctor  answered  only  with  a  shrug  of  the  shoulders, 
which  showed  his  inability  to  do  more.  "  I  understand 
your  silence,  Herve,"  murmured  Noel.  "Alas!  you  told 
me  last  night  she  was  lost." 

"  Scientifically,  yes ;  but  I  do  not  yet  despair.  It  is 
hardly  a  year  ago  that  the  father-in-law  of  one  of  our  com- 
rades recovered  from  an  almost  identical  attack  ;  and  I 
saw  him  when  he  was  much  worse  than  this :  suppuration 
had  set  in." 


202  THE  LE ROUGE  CASE. 

"  It  breaks  my  heart  to  see  her  in  this  state,"  resumed 
Noel.  "  Must  she  die  without  recovering  her  reason  even 
for  one  moment?  Will  she  not  recognise  me,  speak  one 
word  to  me  ?  " 

"  Who  knows  ?  This  disease,  my  poor  friend,  baffles  all 
foresight.  Each  moment,  the  aspect  may  change,  accord- 
ing as  the  inflammation  affects  such  or  such  a  part  of  the  brain. 
She  is  now  in  a  state  of  utter  insensibility,  of  complete 
prostration  of  all  her  intellectual  faculties,  of  coma,  of  par- 
alysis so  to  say ;  to-morrow,  she  may  be  seized  with  con- 
vulsions, accompanied  with  a  fierce  delirium." 

"  And  will  she  speak  then  ?  " 

"  Certainly  ;  but  that  will  neither  modify  the  nature  nor 
the  gravity  of  the  disease." 

"  And  will  she  recover  her  reason  ?  " 

"Perhaps,"  answered  the  doctor,  looking  fixedly  at  his 
friend  ;  "  but  why  do  you  ask  that  ?  " 

"  Ah,  my  dear  Herve,  one  word  from  Madame  Gerdy, 
only  one,  would  be  of  such  use  to  me  !  " 

"  For  your  affair,  eh  !  Well,  I  can  tell  you  nothing,  can 
promise  you  nothing.  You  have  as  many  chances  in  your 
favour  as  against  you  ;  only,  do  not  leave  her.  If  her 
intelligence  returns,  it  will  be  only  momentary,  try  and 
profit  by  it.  But  I  must  go,"  added  the  doctor :  "  I  have  still 
three  calls  to  make." 

Noel  followed  his  friend.  When  they  reached  the  land- 
ing, he  asked  :  "  You  will  return  ?  " 

"  This  evening,  at  nine.  There  will  be  no  need  of  me  till 
then.  All  depends  upon  the  watcher.  But  I  have  chosen 
a  pearl.  I  know  her  well." 

"  It  was  you,  then,  who  brought  this  nun  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  without  your  permission.  Are  you  dis- 
pleased ? " 

"  Not  the  least  in  the  world.     Only  I  confess — " 

"  What !  you  make  a  grimace.  Do  your  political  opin- 
ions forbid  your  having  your  mother,  I  should  say  Madame 
Gerdy,  nursed  by  a  nun  of  St.  Vincent  ?  " 

"  My  dear  Herve,  you — " 

"  Ah  !  I  know  what  you  are  going  to  say.  They  are 
adroit,  insinuating,  dangerous,  all  that  is  quite  true.  If  I 
had  a  rich  old  uncle  whose  heir  I  expected  to  be,  I 
shouldn't  introduce  one  of  them  into  his  house.  These 
good  creatures  are  sometimes  charged  with  strange  com- 


7'HE  LEROUGE  CASE.  203 

missions.  But,  what  have  you  to  fear  from  this  one  ? 
rvever  mind  what  fools  say.  Money  aside,  these  worthy 
sisters  are  the  best  nurses  in  the  world.  I  hope  you  will 
nave  one  when  your  end  comes.  But  good-bye  ;  I  am  in 
a  hurry."  And,  regardless  of  his  professional  dignity,  the 
doctor  hurried  down  the  stairs  ;  while  Noel,  full  of  thought, 
his  countenance  displaying  the  greatest  anxiety,  returned 
to  Madame  Gerdy. 

At  the  door  of  the  sick-room,  the  nun  awaited  the  bar- 
rister's return. 

"  Sir,"  said  she,  "  sir." 

"  You  want  something  of  me,  sister  ?  " 

"  Sir,  the  servant  bade  me  come  to  you  for  money  :  she 
has  no  more,  and  had  to  get  credit  at  the  chemist's." 

"  Excuse  me,  sister,"  interrupted  Noel,  seemingly  very 
much  vexed  ;  "excuse  me  for  not  having  anticipated  your 
request ;  but  you  see  I  am  rather  confused."  And,  taking 
a  hundred-franc  note  out  of  his  pocket-book,  he  laid  it  on 
the  mantel  piece. 

"  Thanks,  sir,"  said  the  nun  ;  "  I  will  keep  an  account 
of  what  I  spend.  We  always  do  that,"  she  added  ;  "it  is 
more  convenient  for  the  family.  One  is  so  troubled  at  see- 
ing those  one  loves  laid  low  by  illness.  You  have  perhaps 
not  thought  of  giving  this  poor  lady  the  sweet  aid  of  our 
holy  religion  !  In  your  place,  sir,  I  should  send  without 
delay  for  a  priest, — " 

"  What,  now,  sister  ?  Do  you  not  see  the  condition  she 
is  in  ?  She  is  the  same  as  dead  ;  you  saw  that  she  did  not 
hear  my  voice." 

"  That  is  of  little  consequence,  sir,"  replied  the  nun  ; 
"you  will  always  have  done  your  duty.  She  did  not  an- 
swer you  ;  but  are  you  sure  that  she  will  not  answer  the 
priest  ?  Ah,  you  do  not  know  all  the  power  of  the  last 
sacraments  !  I  have  seen  the  dying  recover  their  intelli- 
gence and  sufficient  strength  to  confess,  and  to  receive  the 
sacred  body  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  I  have  often  heard 
families  say  that  they  do  not  wish  to  alarm  the  invalid,  that 
the  sight  of  the  minister  of  our  Lord  might  inspire  a  terror 
that  would  hasten  the  final  end.  It  is  a  fatal  error.  The 
priest  does  not  terrify  :  he  reassures  the  soul,  at  the  begin- 
ning of  its  long  journey.  He  speaks  in  the  name  of  the 
God  of  mercy,  who  comes  to  save,  not  to  destroy.  I  could 


204  THE  LE ROUGE  CASE. 

cite  to  you  many  cases  of  dying  people  who  have  been 
cured  simply  by  contact  with  the  sacred  balm." 

The  nun  spoke  in  a  tone  as  mournful  as  her  look.  Her 
heart  was  evidently  not  in  the  words  which  she  uttered. 
Without  doubt,  she  had  learned  them  when  she  first  en- 
tered the  convent.  Then  they  expressed  something  she 
really  felt,  she  spoke  her  own  thoughts  ;  but,  since  then, 
she  had  repeated  the  words  over  and  over  again  to  the 
friends  of  every  sick  person  that  she  attended,  until  they 
lost  all  meaning  so  far  as  she  was  concerned.  To  utter 
them  became  simply  a  part  of  her  duties  as  nurse,  the 
same  as  the  preparation  of  draughts,  and  the  making  of 
poultices.  Noel  was  not  listening  to  her ;  his  thoughts 
were  far  away. 

"  Your  dear  mother,"  continued  the  nun,  "  this  good 
lady  that  you  love  so  much,  no  doubt  trusted  in  her  reli- 
gion. Do  you  wish  to  endanger  her  salvation  ?  If  she 
could  speak  in  the  midst  of  her  cruel  sufferings — " 

The  barrister  was  on  the  point  of  replying,  when  the  ser- 
vant announced  that  a  gentleman,  who  would  not  give  his 
name,  wished  to  speak  with  him  on  business. 

"  I  will  come,"  he  said  quickly. 

"  What  do  you  decide,  sir  ?  "  persisted  the  nun. 

"  I  leave  you  free,  sister,  to  do  as  you  may  judge  best." 

The  worthy  woman  began  to  recite  her  lesson  of  thanks, 
but  to  no  purpose.  Noel  had  disappeared  with  a  dis- 
pleased look  ;  and  almost  immediately  she  heard  his  voice 
in  the  next  room,  saying  :  "  At  last  you  have  come,  M. 
Clergeot,  I  had  almost  given  you  up  !  " 

The  visitor,  whom  the  barrister  had  been  expecting,  is  a 
person  well  known  in  the  Rue  St.  Lazare,  round  about  the 
Rue  de  Provence,  the  neighbourhood  of  Notre  Dame  de 
Lorette,  and  all  along  the  exterior  Boulevards,  from  the 
Chaussee  des  Martyrs  to  the  Rond-Point  of  the  old  Bar 
riere  de  Clichy.  M.  Clergeot  is  no  more  a  usurer  than 
M.  Jourclain's  father  was  a  shopkeeper.  Only,  as  he  has 
lots  of  money,  and  is  very  obliging,  he  lends  it  to  his 
friends  ;  and,  in  return  for  this  kindness,  he  consents  to  re- 
ceive interest,  which  varies  from  fifteen  to  five  hundred 
per  cent.  The  excellent  man  positively  loves  his  clients, 
and  his  honesty  is  generally  appreciated.  He  has  never 
been  known  to  seize  a  debtor's  goods  ;  he  prefers  to  fol- 
low him  up  without  respite  for  ten  years,  and  tear  from 


THE  LEROUGE  CASE.  205 

him  bit  by  bit  what  is  his  due.  He  lives  near  the  top  of 
the  Rue  de  la  Victoire.  He  has  no  shop  ,  and  yet  he  sells 
everything  saleable,  and  some  other  things,  too,  that  the 
law  scarcely  considers  merchandise.  Anything  to  be  use- 
ful or  neighbourly.  He  often  asserts  that  he  is  not  very 
rich.  It  is  possibly  true.  He  is  whimsical  more  than  cov- 
etous, and  fearfully  bold.  Free  with  his  money  when  one 
pleases  him,  he  would  not  lend  five  francs,  even  with  a 
mortgage  on  the  Chateau  of  Ferrieres  as  guarantee,  to  who- 
soever does  not  meet  with  his  approval.  However,  he 
often  risks  his  all  on  the  most  unlucky  cards.  His  pre- 
ferred customers  consist  of  women  of  doubtful  morality, 
actresses,  artists,  and  those  venturesome  fellows  who  enter 
upon  professions  which  depend  solely  upon  those  who 
practice  them,  such  as  lawyers  and  doctors.  He  lends  to 
women  upon  their  present  beauty,  to  men  upon  their  fu- 
ture talent.  Slight  pledges  !  His  discernment,  it  should 
be  said,  however,  enjoys  a  great  reputation.  It  is  rarely 
at  fault.  A  pretty  girl  furnished  by  Clergeot  is  sure  to  go 
far.  For  an  artist  to  be  in  Clergeot's  debt  was  a  recom- 
mendation preferable  to  the  warmest  criticism. 

Madame  Juliette  had  procured  this  useful  and  honoura- 
ble acquaintance  for  her  lover.  Noel,  who  well  knew  how 
sensitive  this  worthy  man  was  to  kind  attentions,  and  how 
pleased  by  politeness,  began  by  offering  him  a  seat,  and  ask- 
ing after  his  health.  Clergeot  went  into  details.  His  teeth 
were  still  good ;  but  his  sight  was  beginning  to  fail.  His  legs 
were  no  longer  so  steady,  and  his  hearing  was  not  all  that 
could  be  desired.  The  chapter  of  complaints  ended — 
"  You  know,"  said  he,  "  why  I  have  called.  Your  bills  fall 
clue  to-day  ;  and  I  am  devilishly  in  need  of  money.  I 
have  one-  of  ten,  one  of  seven,  and  a  third  of  five  thousand 
francs,  total,  twenty-two  thousand  francs." 

"  Come,  M.  Clergeot,"  replied  Noel,  "do  not  let  us  have 
any  joking." 

"  Excuse  me,"  said  the  usurer ;  "  I  am  not  joking  at 
all." 

"  I  rather  think  you  are  though.  Why,  it's  just  eight 
days  ago  to-day  that  I  wrote  to  tell  you  that  I  was  not 
prepared  to  meet  the  bills,  and  asked  for  a  renewal !  " 

"  I  recollect  very  well  receiving  your  letter." 

"  What  do  you  say  to  it,  then  ?  " 

"  By  my  not  answering  the  note,  I  supposed  that  you 


LE ROUGE  CASE. 

would  understand  that  I  could  not  comply  with  your  request; 
I  hoped  that  you  would  exert  yourself  to  find  the  amount  for 
me." 

Noel  allowed  a  gesture  of  impatience  to  escape  him. 
"  I  have  not  done  so,"4he  said  ,  "  so  take  your  own  course.  I 
haven't  a  sou." 

"The  devil.  Do  you  know  that  I  have  renewed  these 
bills  four  times  already  ?  " 

"  I  know  that  the  interest  has  been  fully  and  promptly 
paid,  and  at  a  rate  which  cannot  make  you  regret  the 
investment." 

Clergeot  never  likes  talking  about  the  interest  he  receives. 
He  pretends  that  it  is  humiliating. 

"  I  do  not  complain  ;  I  only  say  that  you  take  things  too 
easily  with  me.     If  I  had  put  your  signature  in  circulation 
all  would  have  been  paid  by  now." 
"  Not  at  all." 

"  Yes,  you  would  have  found  means  to  escape  being  sued. 
But  you  say  to  yourself :  '  Old  Clergeot  is  a  good  fellow.' 
And  that  is  true.  But  I  am  so  only  when  it  can  do  me  no 
harm.  Now,  to-day,  I  am  absolutely  in  great  need  of  my 
money.  Ab — so — lute — ly,"  he  added,  emphasising  each 
syllable. 

The  old  fellow's  decided  tone  seemed  to  disturb  the 
barrister.  "  Must  I  repeat  it  ? "  he  said ;  "  I  am  completely 
drained,  com — plete — ly  !  " 

"  Indeed  ?  "  said  the  usurer ;  "  well,  I  am  sorry  for  you ; 
but  I  shall  have  to  sue  you." 

"  And  what  good  will  that  do  ?  Let  us  play  above  board, 
M.  Clergeot.  Do  you  care  to  increase  the  lawyers' 
fees  ?  You  don't  do  you  ?  Even  though  you  may  put  me 
to  great  expense,  will  that  procure  you  even  'a  centime  ? 
You  will  obtain  judgment  against  me.  Well,  what  then  ? 
Do  you  think  of  putting  in  an  execution  ?  This  is  not  my 
home ;  the  lease  is  in  Madame  Gerdy's  name." 

"  I  know  all  that.  Besides,  the  sale  of  everything  here 
would  not  cover  the  amount." 

"  Then  you  intend  to  put  me  in  prison,  at  Clichy  !  Bad 
speculation,  I  warn  you,  my  practice  will  be  lost,  and,  you 
know,  no  practice,  no  money." 

"  Good  !  "  cried  the  worthy  money-lender.  "  Now  you 
are  talking  nonsense  !  You  call  that  being  frank.  Pshaw  ! 
if  you  supposed  me  capable  of  half  the  cruel  things  you 


THE  LE ROUGE  CASE.  207 

have  said,  my  money  would  be  there  in  your  drawer,  ready 
for  me." 

"  A  mistake  !  I  should  not  know  where  to  get  it,  unless 
by  asking  Madame  Gerdy,  a  thing  I  would  never  do." 

A  sarcastic  and  most  irritating  little  laugh,  peculiar  to 
old  Clergeot,  interrupted  Noel.  "  It  would  be  no  good 
doing  that,"  said  the  usurer ;  "  mamma's  purse  has  long 
been  empty  ;  and  if  the  dear  creature  should  die  now, — 
they  tell  me  she  is  very  ill, — I  would  not  give  two  hundred 
napoleons  for  the  inheritance." 

The  barrister  turned  red  with  passion,  his  eyes  glittered  ; 
but  he  dissembled,  and  protested  with  some  spirit. 

"  We  know  what  we  know,"  continued  Clergeot  quietly. 
"  Before  a  man  risks  his  money,  he  takes  care  to  make 
some  inquiries.  Mamma's  remaining  bonds  were  sold  last 
October.  Ah !  the  Rue  de  Provence  is  an  expensive 
place !  I  have  made  an  estimate,  which  is  at  home. 
Juliette  is  a  charming  woman,  to  be  sure  \  she  has  not  her 
equal,  I  am  convinced ;  but  she  is  expensive,  devilish  expen- 
sive." 

Noel  was  enraged  at  hearing  his  Juliette  thus  spoke  of 
by  this  honourable  personage.  But  what  reply  could  he 
make  ?  Besides,  none  of  us  are  perfect ;  and  M.  Clergeot 
possesses  the  fault  of  not  properly  appreciating  women, 
which  doubtless  arises  from  the  business  transactions  he 
has  had  with  them.  He  is  charming  in  his  business  with 
the  fair  sex,  complimenting  and  flattering  them;  but  the 
coarsest  insults  would  be  less  revolting  than  his  disgusting 
familiarity. 

"  You  have  gone  too  fast,"  he  continued,  without  deigning 
to  notice  his  client's  ill  looks  ;  "  and  I  have  told  you  so  be- 
fore. But,  you  would  not  listen  ;  you  are  mad  about  the 
girl.  You  can  never  refuse  her  anything.  Fool  !  When 
a  pretty  girl  wants  anything,  you  should  let  her  long  for  it 
for  a  while  ;  she  has  then  something  to  occupy  her  mind, 
and  keep  her  from  thinking  of  a  quantity  of  other  follies. 
Four  good  strong  wishes,  well  managed,  ought  to  last  a 
year.  You  don't  know  how  to  look  after  your  own  interests. 
I  know  that  her  glance  would  turn  the  head  of  a  stone 
saint ;  but  you  should  reason  with  yourself,  hang  it !  Why, 
there  are  not  ten  girls  in  Paris  who  live  in  such  style  ? 
And  do  you  think  she  loves  you  any  the  more  for  it  ?  No< 


a  bit.  When  she  has  ruined  you,  she'll  leave  you  in  the 
lurch." 

Noel  accepted  the  eloquence  of  his  prudent  banker  like 
a  man  without  an  umbrella  accepts  a  shower.  "  What  is 
the  meaning  of  all  this  !  "  he  asked. 

"  Simply  that  I  will  not  renew  your  bills.  You  under- 
stand ?  Just  now,  if  you  try  very  hard,  you  will  be  able 
to  hand  me  the  twenty-two  thousand  francs  in  question. 
You  need  not  frown  :  you  will  find  means  to  do  so  to 
prevent  my  seizing  your  goods, — not  here,  for  that  would 
be  absurd,  but  at  your  little  woman's  apartments.  She 
would  not  be  at  all  pleased,  and  would  not  hesitate  to  tell 
you  so." 

"  But  everything  there  belongs  to  her ;  and  you  have  no 
right—" 

"  What  of  that  ?  She  will  oppose  the  seizure,  no  doubt, 
and  I  expect  her  to  do  so ;  but  she  will  make  you  find  the 
requisite  sum.  Believe  me,  you  had  best  parry  the  blow. 
I  insist  on  being  paid  now.  I  won't  give  you  any  further 
delay  ;  because,  in  three  months'  time,  you  will  have  used 
your  last  resources.  It  is  no  use  saying  '  No,'  like  that. 
You  are  in  one  of  those  conditions  that  must  be  continued 
at  any  price.  You  would  burn  the  wood  from  your  dying 
mother's  bed  to  warm  this  creature's  feet.  Where  did  you 
obtain  the  ten  thousand  francs  that  you  left  with  her  the 
other  evening  ?  Who  knows  what  you  will  next  attempt  to 
procure  money  ?  The  idea  of  keeping  her  fifteen  days, 
three  days,  a  single  day  more,  may  lead  you  far.  Open 
your  eyes.  I  know  the  game  well.  If  you  do  not  leave 
Juliette,  you  are  lost.  Listen  to  a  little  good  advice,  gratis. 
You  must  give  her  up,  sooner  or  later,  mustn't  you  ?  Do  it 
to-day,  then." 

As  you  see,  our  worthy  Clergeot  never  minces  the  truth 
to  his  customers,  when  they  do  not  keep  their  engage- 
ments. If  they  are  displeased,  so  much  the  worse  for 
them  !  His  conscience  is  at  rest.  He  would  never  join 
in  any  foolish  business. 

Noel  could  bear  it  no  longer :  and  his  anger  burst  forth. 
"  Enough,"  he  cried  decidedly.  "  Do  as  you  please,  M. 
Clergeot,  but  have  done  with  your  advice.  I  prefer  the 
lawyer's  plain  prose.  If  I  have  committed  follies,  I 
can  repair  them,  and  in  a  way  that  would  surprise 
you.  Yes,  M.  Clergeot,  I  can  procure  twenty-two  thou- 


LE ROGUE  CASK.  209 

sand  francs  ;  I  could  have  a  hundred  thousand  to-morrow 
morning,  if  I  saw  fit.  They  would  only  cost  me  the  trouble 
of  asking  for  them.  But  that  I  will  not  do.  My  extrava- 
gance, with  all  due  deference  to  you,  will  remain  a  secret 
as  heretofore.  I  do  not  choose  that  my  present  embar 
rassed  circumstances  should  be  even  suspected.  I  will 
not  relinquish,  for  your  sake,  that  at  which  I  have  been 
aiming,  the  very  day  it  is  within  my  grasp." 

"  He  resists,"  thought  the  usurer ;  "  he  is  less  deeply  in- 
volved than  I  imagined." 

"So,"  continued  the  barrister,  "put  your  bills  in  the 
hands  of  your  lawyer.  Let  him  sue  me.  In  eight  days,  I 
shall  be  summoned  to  appear  before  the  Tribunal  de  Com- 
merce, and  I  shall  ask  for  the  twenty-five  days'  delay, 
which  the  judges  always  grant  to  an  embarrassed  debtor. 
Twenty-five  and  eight,  all  the  world  over,  make  just  thirty- 
three  days.  That  is  precisely  the  respite  I  need.  You 
have  two  alternatives :  either  accept  from  me  at  once  a 
new  bill  for  twenty-four  thousand  francs  payable  in  six 
weeks,  or  else,  as  I  have  an  appointment,  go  off  to  your 
lawyer." 

"  And  in  six  weeks,"  replied  the  usurer,  "you  will  be  in 
precisely  the  same  condition  you  are  to-day.  And  forty- 
five  days  more  of  Juliette  will  cost — " 

"  M.  Clergeot,"  interrupted  Noel,  "  long  before  that 
time,  my  position  will  be  completely  changed.  But  I 
have  finished,"  he  added  rising ;  "  and  my  time  is  valu- 
able." 

"  One  moment,  you-  impatient  fellow  i  "  exclaimed  the 
good-natured  banker,  "  you  said  twenty-four  thousand 
francs  at  forty-five  days  ?  " 

•'  Yes.  That  is  about  seventy-five  per  cent, — pretty  fair 
interest." 

"  I  never  cavil  about  interest,"  said  M.  Clergeot  ; 
"only — "  He  looked  slyly  at  Noel  scratching  his  chin 
violently,  a  movement  which  in  him  indicated  how  insensibly 
his  brain  was  at  work.  "  Only,"  he  continued,  "  I  should 
very  much  like  to  know  what  you  are  counting  upon." 

"  That  I  will  not  tell  you.  You  will  know  it  ere  long, 
in  common  with  all  the  world." 

"  I  have  it  !  "  cried  M.  Clergeot,  "  I  have  it !     You  are 
going  to  marry  !     You  have  found  an  heiress,  of  course, 
your  little  Juliette   told   me  something  of  the  sort  this 
M 


210  THE  LE ROUGE  CASE. 

morning.  Ah  !  you  are  going  to  marry  !  Is  she  pretty  ? 
But  no  matter.  She  has  a  full  purse,  eh  ?  You  wouldn't 
take  her  without  that.  So  you  are  going  to  start  a  home 
of  your  own  ?  " 

"  I  did  not  say  so." 

"  That's  right.  Be  discreet.  But  I  can  take  a  hint. 
One  word  more.  Beware  of  the  storm  ;  your  little  woman 
has  a  suspicion  of  the  truth.  You  are  right;  it  wouldn't 
do  to  be  seeking  money  now.  The  slightest  inquiry  would 
be  sufficient  to  enlighten  your  father-in-law  as  to  youi 
financial  position,  and  you  would  lose  the  damsel.  Marry 
and  settle  down.  But  get  rid  of  Juliette,  or  I  won't  give 
five  francs  for  the  fortune.  So  it  is  settled :  prepare  a  new 
bill  for  twenty-four  thousand  francs,  and  I  will  call  for  it 
when  I  bring  you  the  old  ones  on  Monday." 

"  You  haven't  them  with  you,  then  ?  " 

"  No.  And  to  be  frank,  I  confess  that,  knowing  well  I 
should  get  nothing  from  you,  I  left  them  with  others  at  my 
lawyer's.  However,  you  may  rest  easy :  you  have  my 
word." 

M.  Clergeot  made  a  pretence  of  retiring ;  but  just  as  he 
was  going  out,  he  returned  quickly.  "  I  had  almost  for- 
gotten," said  he ;  "  while  you  are  about  it,  you  can  make 
the  bill  for  twenty-six  thousand  francs.  Your  little  woman 
ordered  some  dresses,  which  I  shall  deliver  to-morrow  ;  in 
this  way  they  will  be  paid  for." 

The  barrister  began  to  remonstrate.  He  certainly  did 
not  refuse  to  pay,  only  he  thought  he  ought  to  be  con- 
sulted when  any  purchases  were  made.  He  didn't  like 
this  way  of  disposing  of  his  money. 

"  What  a  fellow  !  "  said  the  usurer,  shrugging  his  shoul- 
ders ;  "  do  you  want  to  make  the  girl  unhappy  for  nothing 
at  all  ?  She  won't  let  you  off  yet,  my  friend.  You  may 
be  quite  sure  she  will  eat  up  your  new  fortune  also.  And 
you  know,  if  you  need  any  money  for  the,  wedding,  you 
have  but  to  give  me  some  guarantee.  Procure  me  an  in- 
troduction to  the  notary,  and. everything  shall  be  arranged. 
But  I  must  go.  On  Monday  then." 

Noel  listened,  to  make  sure  that  the  usurer  had  actually 
gone.  When  he  heard  him  descending  the  staircase, 
"  Scoundrel !  "  he  cried,  "  miserable  thieving  old  skinflint ! 
Didn't  he  need  a  lot  of  persuading  ?  He  had  quite  made 
up  his  mind  to  sue  me.  It  would  have  been  a  pleasant 


THE  LE ROUGE  CASE.  211 

thing  had  the  count  come  to  hear  of  it.  Vile  usurer  !  I 
was  afraid,  one  moment,  of  being  obliged  to  tell  him  all." 

While  inveighing  thus  against  the  money-lender,  the 
barrister  looked  at  his  watch.  "  Half-past  five  already," 
he  said.  His  indecision  was  great.  Ought  he  to  go  and 
dine  with  his  father  ?  Could  he  leave  Madame  Gerdy  ? 
He  longed  to  dine  at  the  De  Commarin  mansion;  yet,  on 
the  other  hand,  to  leave  a  dying  woman  !  "  Decidedly," 
he  murmured,  "  I  can't  go."  He  sat  down  at  his  desk, 
and  with  all  haste  wrote  a  letter  of  apology  to  his  father. 
Madame  Gerdy,  he  said,  might  die  at  any  moment;  he 
must  remain  with  her.  As  he  bade  the  servant  give  the 
note  to  a  messenger,  to  carry  it  to  the  count,  a  sudden 
thought  seemed  to  strike  him.  "  Does  madame's  brother," 
he  asked,  "  know  that  she  is  dangerously  ill  ? " 

"  I  do  not  know,  sir,"  replied  the  servant,  "  at  any  rate, 
I  have  not  informed  him." 

"  What,  did  you  not  think  to  send  him  word  ?  Run  to 
his  house  quickly.  Have  him  sought  for,  if  he  is  not  at 
home  ;  he  must  come." 

Considerably  more  at  ease,  Noel  went  and  sat  in  the 
sick-room.  The  lamp  was  lighted  ;  and  the  nun  was  moving 
about  the  room  as  though  quite  at  home,  dusting  and 
arranging  everything,  and  putting  it  in  its  place.  She  wore 
an  air  of  satisfaction,  that  Noel  did  not  fail  to  notice. 
"  Have  we  any  gleam  of  hope,  sister  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Perhaps,"  repLed  the  nun.  "  The  priest  has  been  here, 
sir ;  your  dear  mother  did  not  notice  his  presence ;  but  he 
is  coming  back.  That  is  not  all.  Since  the  priest  was  here, 
the  poultice  has  taken  admirably.  The  skin  is  quite 
reddened.  I  am  sure  she  feels  it." 

"  God  grant  that  she  does,  sister  !  " 

"  Oh,  I  have  already  been  praying  !  But  it  is  important 
not  to  leave  her  alone  a  minute.  I  have  arranged  all  with 
the  servant.  After  the  doctor  has  been,  I  shall  lie  down, 
and  she  will  watch  until  one  in  the  morning.  I  will  then 
take  her  place  and — " 

"  You  shall  go  to  bed,  sister,"  interrupted  Noel,  sadly. 
"  It  is  I,  who  could  not  sleep  a  wink,  who  will  watch  through 
the  night." 


THE  I.KKOr^/-.    CASK. 


XIV. 

OLD  TABARET  did  not  consider  himself  defeated,  because 
he  had  been  repulsed  by  the  investigating  magistrate, 
already  irritated  by  a  long  day's  examination.  You  may 
call  it  a  fault,  or  an  accomplishment ;  but  the  old  man  was 
more  obstinate  than  a  mule.  To  the  excess  of  despair  to 
which  he  succumbed  in  the  passage  outside  the  magistrate's 
office,  there  soon  succeeded  that  rlrm  resolution  which  is 
the  enthusiasm  called  forth  by  clanger.  The  feeling  of  duty 
got  the  upper  hand.  Was  it  a  time  to  yield  to  unworthy 
despair,  when  the  life  of  a  fellow-man  depended  on  each 
minute  ?  Inaction  would  be  unpardonable.  He  had 
plunged  an  innocent  man  into  the  abyss ;  and  he  must  draw 
him  out,  he  alone,  if  no  one  would  help  him.  Old  Tabaret, 
as  well  as  the  magistrate,  was  greatly  fatigued.  On  reach- 
ing the  open  air,  he  perceived  that  he,  too,  was  in  want  of 
food.  The  emotions  of  the  day  had  prevented  him  from 
feeling  hungry  ;  and,  since  the  previous  evening,  he  had 
not  even  taken  a  glass  of  water.  He  entered  a  restaurant 
on  the  Boulevards,  and  ordered  dinner.  While  eating,  not 
only  his  courage,  but  also  his  confidence  came  insensibly 
back  to  him.  It  was  with  him,  as  with  the  rest  of  mankind  ; 
who  knows  how  much  one's  ideas  may  change,  from  the 
beginning  to  the  end  of  a  repast,  be  it  ever  so  modest !  A 
philosopher  has  plainly  demonstrated  that  heroism  is  but 
an  affair  of  the  stomach.  The  old  fellow  looked  at  the 
situation  in  a  much  less  sombre  light.  He  had  plenty  of 
time  before  him  !  A  clever  man  could  accomplish  a  great 
deal  in  a  month  !  Would  his  usual  penetration  faif  him 
now  ?  Certainly  not.  His  great  regret  was,  his  inability 
to  let  Albert  know  that  some  was  working  for  him. 

He  was  entirely  another  man,  as  he  rose  from  the  table  ; 
and  it  was  with  a  sprightly  step  that  he  walked  towards  the 
Rue  St.  Lazare.  Nine  o'clock  struck  as  the  concierge 
opened  the  door  for  him.  He  went  at  once  up  to  the  fourth 
floor  to  inquire  after  the  health  of  his  former  friend,  her 
whom  he  used  to  call  the  excellent,  the  worthy  Madame 
Gerdy.  It  was  Noel  who  let  him  in,  Noel,  who  had  doubt- 
less been  thinking  of  the  past,  for  he  looked  as  sad  as 
though  the  dying  woman  was  really  his  mother.  In  con- 
sequence of  this  unexpected  circumstance,  old  Tabaret 


THE  LE ROUGE  CASE.  213 

could  not  avoid  going  in  for  a  few  minutes,  though  he  would 
much  have  preferred  not  doing  so.  He  knew  very  well, 
that,  being  with  the  barrister,  he  would  be  unavoidably  led 
to  speak  of  the  Lerouge  case ;  and  how  could  he  do  this, 
knowing,  as  he  did,  the  particulars  much  better  than  his 
young  friend  himself,  without  betraying  his  secret  ?  A 
single  imprudent  word  might  reveal  the  part  he  was  playing 
in  this  sad  drama.  It  was,  above  all  others,  from  his  dear 
Noel,  now  Viscount  de  Commarin,  that  he  wished  entirely  to 
conceal  his  connection  with  the  police.  But,  on  the  other 
hand,  he  thirsted  to  know  what  had  passed  between  the  bar- 
rister and  the  count.  His  ignorance  on  this  single  point 
aroused  his  curiosity.  However,  as  he  could  not  withdraw  he 
resolved  to  keep  close  watch  upon  his  language  and  remain 
constantly  on  his  guard.  The  barrister  ushered  the  old  man 
into  Madame  Gerdy's  room.  Her  condition,  since  the 
afternoon,  had  changed  a  little  ;  though  it  was  impossible 
to  say  whether  for  the  better  or  the  worse.  One  thing  was 
evident,  her  prostration  was  not  so  great.  Her  eyes  still 
remained  closed ;  but  a  slight  quivering  of  the  lids  was 
evident.  She  constantly  moved  on  her  pillow,  and  moaned 
feebly. 

"  What  does  the  doctor  say  ?  "  asked  old  Tabaret,  in  that 
low  voice  one  unconsciously  employs  in  a  sick-room. 

"  He  has  just  gone,"  replied  Noel ;  "  before  long  all  will 
be  over." 

The  old  man  advanced  on  tip-toe,  and  looked  at  the 
dying  woman  with  evident  emotion.  "  Poor  creature  !  " 
he  murmured  ;  "  God  is  merciful  in  taking  her.  She  per- 
haps suffers  much  ;  but  what  is  this  pain  compared  to  what 
she- would  feel  if  she  knew  that  her  son,  her  true  son,  was 
in  prison,  accused  of  murder  ?  " 

"  That  is  what  I  keep  thinking,"  said  Noel,  "  to  console 
myself  for  this  sight.  For  I  still  love  her,  my  old  friend  ; 
I  shall  always  regard  her  as  a  mother.  You  have  heard 
me  curse  her,  have  you  not  ?  I  have  twice  treated  her  very 
harshly.  I  thought  I  hated  her  ;  but  now,  at  the  moment 
of  losing  her,  I  forget  every  wrong  she  has  done  me,  only 
to  remember  her  tenderness.  Yes,  for  her,  death  is  far 
preferable  !  And  yet  I  do  not  think,  no,  I  cannot  think 
her  son  guilty." 

"  No  !  what,  you  too  ?  " 

Old  Tabaret  put  so  much  warmth  and  vivacity  into  this 


214  THE  1. 1: ROUGE  CASE. 

exclamation,  that  Noel  looked  at  him  with  astonishment. 
He  felt  his  face  grow  red,  and  he  hastened  to  explain  him- 
self. "  I  said, '  you  too,'  "  he  continued,  "  because  I,  thanks 
perhaps  to  my  inexperience,  am  persuaded  also  of  this 
young  man's  innocence.  I  cannot  in  the  least  imagine  a 
man  of  his  rank  meditating  and  accomplishing  so  cowardly 
a  crime.  I  have  spoken  with  many  persons  on  this  matter 
which  has  made  so  much  noise  :  and  everybody  is  of  my 
opinion.  He  has  public  opinion  in  his  favor ;  that  is  al- 
ready something." 

Seated  near  the  bed,  sufficiently  far  from  the  lamp  to 
be  in  the  shade,  the  nun  hastily  knitted  stockings  des- 
tined for  the  poor.  It  was  a  purely  mechanical  work, 
during  which  she  usually  prayed.  But,  since  old  Tabaret 
entered  the  room,  she  forgot  her  everlasting  prayers 
whilst  listening  to  the  conversation.  What  did  it  all  mean  ? 
Who  could  this  woman  be  ?  And  this  young  man  who 
was  not  her  son,  and  who  yet  called  her  mother,  and  at 
the  same  time  spoke  of  a  true  son  accused  of  being  an 
assassin  ?  Before  this  she  had  overheard  mysterious 
remarks  pass  between  Noel  and  the  doctor.  Into  what 
strange  house  had  she  entered  ?  She  was  a  little  afraid  ; 
and  her  conscience  was  sorely  troubled.  Was  she  not 
sinning  ?  She  resolved  to  tell  all  to  the  priest,  when  he 
returned. 

"  No,"  said  Noel,  "  no,  M.  Tabaret ;  Albert  has  not 
public  opinion  for  him.  We  are  sharper  than  that  in 
France,  as  you  know.  When  a  poor  devil  is  arrested, 
entirely  innocent,  perhaps,  of  the  crime  charged  against 
him,  we  are  always  ready  to  throw  stones  at  him.  We 
keep  all  our  pity  for  him,  who,  without  doubt  guilty, 
appears  before  the  court  of  assize.  As  long  as  the  justice 
hesitates,  we  side  with  the  prosecution  against  the  pris- 
oner. The  moment  it  is  proved  that  the  man  is  a  villain,  all 
our  sympathies  are  in  his  favour.  That  is  public  opinion. 
You  understand,  however,  that  it  affects  me  but  little.  I 
despise  it  to  such  an  extent,  that  if,  as  I  dare  still  hope, 
Albert  is  not  released,  I  will  defend  him.  Yes,  I  have 
told  the  Count  de  Commarin,  my  father,  as  much.  I  will 
be  his  counsel,  and  I  will  save  him." 

Gladly  would  the  old  man  have  thrown  himself  on 
Noel's  neck.  He  longed  to  say  to  him  :  "  We  will  save 
him  together."  But  he  restrained  himself.  Would  not 


THE  LEROUGE  CASE.  215 

the  barrister  despise  him,  if  he  told  him  his  secret !  He 
resolved,  however,  to  reveal  all  should  it  become  neces- 
sary, or  should  Albert's  position  become  worse.  For  the 
time  being,  he  contented  himself  with  strongly  approving 
his  young  friend.  "  Bravo !  my  boy,"  said  he ;  "  you 
have  a  noble  heart.  I  feared  to  see  you  spoiled  by  wealth 
and  rank  ;  pardon  me.  You  will  remain,  I  see,  what  you 
have  always  been  in  your  more  humble  position.  But, 
tell  me,  you  have,  then,  seen  your  father,  the  count  ? " 

Now,  for  the  first  time,  Noel  seemed  to  notice  the  nun's 
eyes,  which,  lighted  by  eager  curiosity,  glittered  in  the 
shadow  like  carbuncles.  With  a  look,  he  drew  the  old 
man's  attention  to  her,  and  said  :  "  I  have  seen  him  ; 
and  everything  is  arranged  to  my  satisfaction.  I  will  tell 
you  all,  in  detail,  by-aftcl-bye,  when  we  are  more  at  ease. 
By  this  bedside,  I  am  almost  ashamed  of  my  happiness." 

M.  Tabaret  was  obliged  to  content  himself  with  this 
reply  and  this  promise.  Seeing  that  he  would  learn 
nothing  that  evening,  he  spoke  of  going  to  bed,  declaring 
himself  tired  out  by  what  he  had  had  to  do  during  the 
clay.  Noel  did  not  ask  him  to  stop.  He  was  expecting, 
he  said,  Madame  Gerdy's  brother,  who  had  been  sent  for 
several  times,  but  who  was  not  at  home.  He  hardly 
knew  how  he  could  again  meet  this  brother,  he  added  : 
he  did  not  yet  know  what  conduct  he  ought  to  pursue. 
Should  he  tell  him  all  ?  It  would  only  increase  his  grief. 
On  the  other  hand,  silence  would  oblige  him  to  play  a 
difficult  part.  The  old  man  advised  him  to  say  nothing ; 
he  could  explain  all  later  on. 

"  What  a  fine  fellow  Noel  is  !  "  murmured  old  Tabaret, 
as  he  regained  his  apartments  as  quietly  as  possible. 
He  had  been  absent  from  home  twenty-four  hours  ;  and 
he  fully  expected  a  formidable  scene  with  his  housekeeper. 
Mannette  was  decidedly  out  of  temper,  and  declared, 
once  for  all,  that  she  would  certainly  seek  a  new  place, 
if  her  master  did  not  change  his  conduct.  She  had  re- 
mained up  all  night,  in  a  terrible  fright,  listening  to  the 
least  sound  on  the  stairs,  expecting  every  moment  to  see 
her  master,  brought  home  on  a  litter,  assassinated.  As 
though  on  purpose,  there  had  been  great  commotion  in 
the  house.  M.  Gerdy  had  gone  down  a  short  time  after 
her  master,  and  she  had  seen  him  return  two  hours  later. 
After  that,  they  had  sent  for  the  doctor.  Such  goings  on 


216  THE  LEKOL'GE  CASE. 

would  be  the  death  of  her,  without  counting  that  her 
constitution  was  too  weak  to  allow  her  to  sit  up  so  late. 
But  Mannette  forgot  that  she  did  not  sit  up  on  her 
master's  account  nor  on  Noel's  but  was  expecting  one  of 
her  old  friends,  one  of  those  handsome  Gardes  de  Paris 
who  had  promised  to  marry  her,  and  for  whom  she  had 
waited  in  vain,  the  rascal  !  She  burst  forth  in  reproaches, 
while  she  prepared  her  master's  bed,  too  sincere,  she 
declared,  to  keep  anything  on  her  mind,  or  to  keep  her 
mouth  closed,  when  it  was  a  question  of  his  health  and 
reputation.  M.  Tabaret  made  no  reply,  not  being  in  the 
mood  for  argument.  He  bent  his  head  to  the  storm,  and 
turned  his  back  to  the  hail.  But,  as  soon  as  Mannette 
had  finished  what  she  was  about,  he  put  her  out  of  the 
room,  and  double  locked  the  door.  He  busied  himself 
in  forming  a  new  line  of  battle,  and  in  deciding  upon 
prompt  and  active  measures.  He  rapidly  examined  the 
situation.  Had  he  been  deceivd  in  his  investigations  ? 
No.  Were  his  calculations  of  probabilities  erroneous  ? 
No.  He  had  started  with  a  positive  fact,  the  murder. 
He  had  discovered  the  particulars ;  his  inferences  were 
correct,  and  the  criminal  was  evidently  such  as  he  had 
described  him.  The  man  M.  Daburon  had  had  arrested 
could  not  be  the  criminal.  His  confidence  in  a  judicial 
axiom  had  led  him  astray,  when  he  pointed  to  Albert. 

"  That,"  thought  he,  "  is  the  result  of  following  ac- 
cepted opinions  and  those  absurd  phrases,  all  ready  to 
hand,  which  are  like  mile-stones  along  a  fool's  road  ! 
Left  free  to  my  own  inspirations,  I  should  have  examined 
this  case  more  thoroughly^  I  would  have  left  nothing  to 
chance.  The  formula,  '  Seek  out  the  one  whom  the 
crime  benefits,  may  often  be  as  absurd  as  true.  The 
heirs  of  a  man  assassinated  are  in  reality  all  benefited 
by  the  murder ;  while  the  assassin  obtains  at  most  the 
victim's  watch  and  purse.  Three  pers6ns  were  interested 
in  Widow  Lerouge'-s  death  : — Albert,  Madame  Gerdy, 
and  the  Count  de  Commarin.  It  is  plain  to  me  that 
Albert  is  not  the  criminal.  It  is  not  Madame  Gerdy,  who 
is  dying  from  the  shock  caused  by  the  unexpected  an- 
nouncement of  the  crime.  There  remains,  then,  the 
count.  Can  it  be  he  ?  If  so,  he  certainly  did  not  do  it 
himself.  He  must  have  hired  some  wretch,  a  wretch  of 
good  position,  if  you  please,  wearing  patent  leather  boots 


Till'.  LKROUGK  CASE.  217 

of  a  good  make,  and  smoking  trabucos  cigars  with  an 
amber  mouth-piece.  These  well-dressed  villains  ordinarily 
lack  nerve.  They  cheat,  they  forge ;  but  they  don't 
assassinate.  Supposing,  though,  that  the  count  did  get 
hold  of  some  dare-devil  fellow.  He  would  simply  have 
replaced  one  accomplice  by  another  still  more  dangerous. 
That  would  be  idiotic,  and  the  count  is  a  sensible  man. 
He,  therefore,  had  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  the  mat- 
ter. To  be  quite  sure  though,  I  will  make  some  inquiries 
about  him.  Another  thing,  Widow  Lerouge,  who  so 
readily  exchanged  the  children  while  nursing  them,  would 
be  very  likely  to  undertake  a  number  of  other  dangerous 
commissions.  Who  can  say  that  she  has  not  obliged  other 
persons  who  had  an  equal  interest  in  getting  rid  of  her  ? 
There  is  a  secret,  I  am  getting  at  it,  but  I  do  not  hold  it 
yet.  One  thing  is  certain  though,  she  was  not  assassinated 
to  prevent  Noel  recovering  his  rights.  She  must  have 
been  suppressed  for  some  analogous  reason,  by  a  bold 
and  experienced  scoundrel,  prompted  by  similar  motives 
to  those  of  which  I  suspected  Albert.  It  is,  then,  in  that 
direction  that  I  must  follow  up  the  case  now.  And,  above 
all,  I  must  obtain  the  past  history  of  this  obliging  widow, 
and  I  will  have  it  too,  for  in  all  probability  the  particulars 
which  have  been  written  for  from  her  birthplace  will  ar- 
rive to-morrow." 

Returning  to  Albert,  old  Tabaret  weighed  the  charges 
which  were  brought  against  the  young  man,  and  reckoned 
the  chances  which  he  still  had  in  favour  of  his  release. 
"  From  the  look  of  things,"  he  murmured,  "  I  see  only 
luck  and  myself,  that  is  to  say  absolutely  nothing,  in  his 
favor  at  present.  As  to  the  charges,  they  are  countless. 
However,  it  is  no  use  going  over  them.  It  is  I  who 
amassed  them  ;  and  I  know  what  they  are  worth  !  At  once 
everything  and  nothing.  What  do  signs  prove,  however 
striking  they  may  be,  in  cases  where  one  ought  to  disbe- 
lieve even  the  evidence  of  one's  own  senses  ?  Albert  is  a 
victim  of  the  most  remarkable  coincidences  ;  but  one  word 
might  explain  them.  There  have  been  many  such  cases. 
It  was  even  worse  in  the  matter  of  the  little  tailor.  At  five 
o'clock,  he  bought  a  knife,  which  he  showed  to  ten  of  his 
friends,  saying,  '  This  is  for  my  wife,  who  is  an  idle  jade, 
and  plays  me  false  with  my  workmen.'  In  the  evening, 
the  neighbours  heard  a  terrible  quarrel  between  the  couple, 


2i8  THE  LEROUGE  CASE. 

cries,  threats,  stampings,  blows  ,  then  suddenly  all  was 
quiet.  The  next  day,  the  tailor  had  disappeared  from  his 
home,  and  the  wife  was  discovered  dead,  with  the  very 
same  knife  buried  to  the  hilt  between  her  shoulders.  Ah, 
well !  it  turned  out  it  was  not  the  husband  who  had  stuck 
it  there ;  it  was  a  jealous  lover.  After  that,  what  is  to  be 
believed  ?  Albert,  it  is  true,  will  not  give  an  account  of 
how  he  passed  Tuesday  evening.  That  does  not  affect 
me.  The  question  for  me  is  not  to  prove  where  he  was, 
but  that  he  was  not  at  La  Jonchere.  Perhaps,  after  all, 
Gevrol  is  on  the  right  track.  I  hope  so,  from  the  bottom 
of  my  heart.  Yes ;  God  grant  that  he  may  be  successful. 
My  vanity  and  my  mad  presumption  will  deserve  the  slight 
punishment  of  his  triumph  over  me.  What  would  I  not 
give  to  establish  this  man's  innocence  ?  Half  of  my 
fortune  would  be  but  a  small  sacrifice.  If  I  should  not 
succeed  !  If,  after  having  caused  the  evil,  I  should  find 
myself  powerless  to  undo  it !  " 

Old  Tabaret  went  to  bed,  shuddering  at  this  last  thought. 
He  fell  asleep,  and  had  a  terrible  nightmare.  Lost  in  that 
vulgar  crowd,  which,  on  the  days  when  society  revenges 
itself,  presses  about  the  Place  de  la  Rouquette  and  watches 
the  last  convulsions  of  one  condemned  to  death,  he  attended 
Albert's  execution.  He  saw  the  unhappy  man,  his  hands 
bound  behind  his  back,  his  collar  turned  down,  ascend, 
supported  by  a  priest,  the  steep  flight  of  steps  leading  on 
to  the  scaffold.  He  saw  him  standing  upon  the  fatal  plat- 
form, turning  his  proud  gaze  upon  the  terrified  assembly 
beneath  him.  Soon  the  eyes  of  the  condemned  man  met 
his  own  ;  and,  bursting  his  cords,  he  pointed  him,  Tabaret, 
out  to  the  crowd,  crying,  in  a  loud  voice :  "  That  man  is 
my  assassin."  Then  a  great  clamour  arose  to  curse  the 
detective.  He  wished  to  escape ;  but  his  feet  seemed 
fixed  to  the  ground.  He  tried  at  least  to  close  his  eyes  ; 
he  could  not.  A  power  unknown  and  irresistible  compelled 
him  to  look.  Then  Albert  again  cried  out :  "  I  am  inno- 
cent ;  the  guilty  one  is — "  He  pronounced  a  name  ;  the 
crowd  repeated  this  name,  and  he  alone  did  not  catch 
what  it  was.  At  last  the  head  of  the  condemned  man  fell. 
M.  Tabaret  uttered  a  loud  cry,  and  awoke  in  a  cold  perspi- 
ration. It  took  him  some  time  to  convince  himself  that 
nothing  was  real  of  what  he  had  just  heard  and  seen,  and 
that  he  was  actually  in  his  own  house,  in  his  own  bed.  It 


THE  LEROUGE  CASE.  219 

was  only  a  dream  !  But  dreams  sometimes  are,  they  say, 
warnings  from  heaven.  His  imagination  was  so  struck 
with  what  had  just  happened  that  he  made  unheard  of 
efforts  to  recall  the  name  pronounced  by  Albert.  •  Not 
succeeding,  he  got  up  and  lighted  his  candle.  The  dark- 
ness made  him  afraid,  the  night  was  full  of  phantoms. 
It  was  no  longer  with  him  a  question  of  sleep.  Beset  with 
these  anxieties,  he  accused  himself  most  severely,  and 
harshly  reproached  himself  for  the  occupation  he  had 
until  then  so  delighted  in.  Poor  humanity !  He  was  evi- 
dently stark  mad  the  day  when  he  first  had  the  idea  of 
seeking  employment  in  the  Rue  de  Jerusalem.  A  noble 
hobby,  truly,  for  a  man  of  his  age,  a  good  quiet  citizen  of 
Paris,  rich,  and  esteemed  by  all !  And  to  think  that  he 
had  been  proud  of  his  exploits,  that  he  had  boasted  of  his 
cunning,  that  he  had  plumed  himself  on  his  keenness  of 
scent,  that  he  had  been  flattered  by  that  ridiculous  sobri- 
quet, '  Tirauclair.'  Old  fool !  What  could  he  hope  to 
gain  from  that  bloodhound  calling  ?  All  sorts  of  annoy- 
ance, the  contempt  of  the  world,  without  counting  the 
danger  of  contributing  to  the  conviction  of  an  innocent 
man.  Why  had  he  not  taken  warning  by  the  little  tailor's 
case.  Recalling  his  few  satisfactions  of  the  past,  and 
comparing  them  with  his  present  anguish,  he  resolved  that 
he  would  have  no  more  to  do  with  it.  Albert  once  saved, 
he  would  seek  some  less  dangerous  amusement,  and  one 
more  generally  appreciated.  He  would  break  the  connec- 
tion of  which  he  was  ashamed,  and  the  police  and  justice 
might  get  on  the  best  they  could  without  him. 

At  last  the  day,  which  he  had  awaited  with  feverish 
impatience,  dawned.  To  pass  the  time,  he  dressed  him- 
self slowly,  with  much  care,  trying  to  occupy  his  mind  with 
needless  details,  and  to  deceive  himself  as  to  the  time  by 
looking  constantly  at  the  clock,  to  see  if  it  had  not  stopped. 
In  spite  of  all  this  delay,  it  was  not  eight  o'clock  when  he 
presented  himself  at  the  magistrate's  house,  begging  him  to 
excuse,  on  account  of  the  importance  of  his  business,  a  visit 
too  early  not  to  be  indiscreet.  Excuses  were  superfluous. 
M.  Daburon  was  never  disturbed  by  a  call  at  eight  o'clock 
in  the  morning.  He  was  already  at  work.  He  received 
the  old  amateur  detective  with  his  usual  kindness,  and 
even  joked  with  him  a  little  about  his  excitement  of  the 
previous  evening.  Who  would  have  thought  his  nerves 


220  THE  LEKOUGE  CASE. 

were  so  sensitive  ?  Doubtless  the  night  had  brought 
deliberation.  Had  he  recovered  his  reason  ?  or  had  he 
put  his  hand  on  the  true  criminal  ? 

This  trifling  tone  in  a  magistrate,  who  was  accused  of 
being  grave  even  to  a  fault,  troubled  the  old  man.  Did 
not  this  quizzing  hide  a  determination  not  to  be  influenced 
by  anything  that  he  could  say  ?  He  believed  it  did ;  and 
it  \vas  without  the  least  deception  that  he  commenced  his 
pleading.  He  put  the  case  more  calmly  this  time,  but  with 
all  the  energy  of  a  well-digested  conviction.  He  had  ap- 
pealed to  the  heart,  he  now  appealed  to  reason ;  but,  although 
doubt  is  essentially  contagious,  he  neither  succeeded  in 
convincing  the  magistrate,  nor  in  shaking  his  opinion.  His 
strongest  arguments  were  of  no  more  avail  against  M.  Da- 
buron's  absolute  conviction  than  bullets  made  of  bread 
crumbs  would  be  against  a  breastplate.  And  there  was 
nothing  very  surprising  in  that.  Old  Tabaret  had  on  his 
side  only  a  subtle  theory,  mere  words  ;  M.  Daburon  pos- 
sessed palpable  testimony,  facts.  And  such  was  the  pecu- 
liarity of  the  case,  that  all  the  reasons  brought  forward  by 
the  old  man  to  justify  Albert  simply  reacted  against  him, 
and  confirmed  his  guilt.  A  repulse  at  the  magistrate's 
hands  had  entered  too  much  into  M.  Tabaret's  anticipations 
for  him  to  appear  troubled  or  discouraged.  He  declared 
that,  for  the  present,  he  would  insist  no  more ;  he  had  full 
confidence  in  the  magistrate's  wisdom  and  impartiality.  All 
he  wished  was  to  put  him  on  his  guard  against  the  pre- 
sumptions which  he  himself  unfortunately  had  taken  such 
pains  to  inspire.  He  was  going,  he  added,  to  busy  him- 
self with  obtaining  more  information.  They  were  only  at 
the  beginning  of  the  investigation  ;  and  they  were  still 
ignorant  of  very  many  things,  even  of  Widow  Lerouge's 
past  life.  More  facts  might  come  to  light.  Who  knew 
what  testimony  the  man  with  the  earrings,  who  was  being 
pursued  by  Gevrol,  might  give  ?  Though  in  a  great  rage 
internally,  and  longing  to  insult  and  chastise  he  whom  he 
inwardly  styled  a  "  fool  of  a  magistrate,"  old  Tabaret 
forced  himself  to  be  humble  and  polite.  He  wished,  he 
said,  to  keep  well  posted  up  in  the  different  phases  of  the 
investigation,  and  to  be  informed  of  the  result  of  future 
interrogations.  He  ended  by  asking  permission  to  com- 
municate with  Albert.  He  thought  his  services  deserved 


THE  LE ROUGE  CASE.  221 

this  slight  favour.  He  desired  an  interview  of  only  ten 
minutes  without  witnesses. 

M.  Daburon  refused  this  request.  He  declared,  that, 
for  the  present,  the  prisoner  must  continue  to  remain 
strictly  in  solitary  confinement.  By  way  of  consolation, 
he  added  that,  in  three  or  four  days,  he  might  perhaps  be 
able  to  reconsider  this  decision,  as  the  motives  which 
prompted  it  would  then  no  longer  exist. 

"Your  refusal  is  cruel,  sir,"  said  M.  Tabaret ;  "but  1 
understand  it,  and  submit." 

That  was  his  only  complaint :  and  he  withdrew  almost  im- 
mediately, fearing  that  he  could  no  longer  master  his  in- 
dignation. He  felt  that,  besides  the  great  happiness  of  sav- 
ing an  innocent  man,  compromised  by  his  imprudence,  he 
would  experience  unspeakable  delight  in  avenging  himself 
for  the  magistrate's  obstinacy.  "  Three  or  four  days,"  he 
muttered,  "  that  is  the  same  as  three  or  four  years  to  the 
unfortunate  prisoner.  He  takes  things  quite  at  his  ease,  this 
charming  magistrate.  But  I  must  find  out  the  real  truth 
of  the  case  between  now  and  then." 

Yes,  M.  Daburon  only  required  three  or  fou-r  days  to 
wring  a  confession  from  Albert,  or  at  least  to  make  him 
abandon  his  system  of  defence.  The  difficulty  of  the  prose- 
cution was  not  being  able  to  produce  any  witness  who 
had  seen  the  prisoner  during  the  evening  of  Shrove  Tues- 
day. One  deposition  alone  to  that  effect  would  have  such 
great  weight,  that  M.  Daburon,  as  soon  as  Tabaret  had 
left  him,  turned  all  his  attention  in  that  direction.  He 
could  still  hope  for  a  great  deal.  It  was  only  Saturday, 
the  day  of  the  murder  was  remarkable  enough  to  fix  peo- 
ple's memories,  and  up  till  then  there  had  not  been  time 
to  start  a  proper  investigation.  He  arranged  for  five  of 
the  most  experienced  detectives  in  the  secret  service  to  be 
sent  to  Bougival,  supplied  with  photographs  of  the  prisoner. 
They  were  to  scour  the  entire  country  between  Rueil  and 
La  Jonchere,  to  inquire  everywhere,  and  make  the  most 
minute  investigations.  The  photographs  would  greatly  aid 
their  efforts.  They  had  orders  to  show  them  everywhere 
and  to  everybody  and  even  to  leave  a  dozen  about  the  neigh- 
bourhood, as  they  were  furnished  with  a  sufficient  num- 
ber to  do  so.  It  was  impossible,  that,  on  an  evening  when 
so  .many  people  were  about,  no  one  had  noticed  the  origi- 
nal of  the  protrait  either  at  the  railway  station  at  Rueil  or 


222  THE  LEROUGE  CASE. 

upon  one  of  the  roads  which  lead  to  La  Jonchere,  the  high 
road,  and  the  path  by  the  river. 

These  arrangements  made,  the  investigating  magistrate 
proceeded  to  the  Palais  de  Justice,  and  sent  for  Albert. 
He  had  already  in  the  morning  received  a  report,  inform- 
ing him  hour  by  hour  of  the  acts,  gestures,  and  utterances 
of  the  prisoner,  who  had  been  carefully  watched.  Noth- 
ing in  him,  the  report  said,  betrayed  the  criminal.  He 
seemed  very  sad,  but  not  despairing.  He  had  not  cried 
out,  nor  threatened,  nor  cursed  justice,  nor  even  spoken 
of  a  fatal  error.  After  eating  lightly,  he  had  gone 
to  the  window  of  his  cell,  and  had  there  remained 
standing  for  more  than  an  hour.  Then  he  laid  down,  and 
had  quietly  gone  to  sleep. 

"  What  an  iron  constitution  !  "  thought  M.  Daburon, 
when  the  prisoner  entered  his  office. 

Albert  was  no  longer  the  despairing  man  who,  the  night 
before,  bewildered  with  the  multiplicity  of  charges,  sur- 
prised by  the  rapidity  with  which  they  were  brought 
against  him,  had  writhed  beneath  the  magistrate's  gaze, 
and  appeared  ready  to  succumb.  Innocent  or  guilty,  he 
had  made  up  his  mind  how  to  act ;  his  face  left  no  doubt 
of  that.  His  eyes  expressed  that  cold  resolution  of  a  sac- 
rifice freely  made,  and  a  certain  haughtiness  which  might 
be  taken  for  disdain,  but  which  expressed  the  noble  resent- 
ment of  an  injured  man.  In  him  could  be  seen  the  self- 
reliant  man,  who  might  be  shaken  but  never  overcome  by 
misfortune.  On  beholding  him,  the  magistrate  understood 
that  he  would  have  to  change  his  mode  of  attack.  He 
recognized  one  of  those  natures  which  are  provoked  to 
resistance  when  assailed,  and  strengthened  when  men- 
aced. He  therefore  gave  up  his  former  tactics,  and 
attempted  to  move  him  by  kindness.  It  was  a  hackneyed 
trick,  but  almost  always  successful,  like  certain  pathetic 
scenes  at  theatres.  The  criminal  who  has  girt  up  his  energy 
to  sustain  the  shock  of  intimidation,  finds  himself  without 
defence  against  the  wheedling  of  kindness,  the  greater  in 
proportion  to  its  lack  of  sincerity.  Now  M.  Daburon 
excelled  in  producing  affecting  scenes.  What  confessions 
he  had  obtained  with  a  few  tears!  No  one  knew  so  well 
as  he  how  to  touch  those  old  chords  which  vibrate  still 
even  in  the  most  corrupt  hearts:  honor,  love,  and  family, 
ties.  With  Albert,  he  became  kind  and  friendly,  and  fuU 


THE  LEROUGE  CASE.  223 

of  the  liveliest  compassion.  Unfortunate  man !  how 
greatly  he  must  suffer,  he  whose  whole  life  had  been  like 
one  long  enchantment.  How  at  a  single  blow  everything 
about  him  had  fallen  in  ruins.  Who  could  have  foreseen 
all  this  at  the  time  when  he  was  the  one  hope  of  a  wealthy 
and  illustrious  house  !  Recalling  the  past,  the  magistrate 
pictured  to  him  the  most  touching  reminiscences  of  his 
early  youth,  and  stirred  up  the  ashes  of  all  his  extinct 
affections.  Taking  advantage  of  all  that  he  knew  of  the 
prisoner's  life,  he  tortured  him  by  the  most  mournful  allu- 
sions to  Claire.  Why  did  he  persist  in  bearing  alone  his 
great  misfortune  ?  Had  he  no  one  in  the  world  who'would 
deem  it  happiness  to  share  his  sufferings  ?  Why  this 
morose  silence  ?  Should  he  not  rather  hasten  to  reassure 
her  whose  very  life  depended  upon  his  ?  What  was 
necessary  for  that?  A  single  word.  Then  he  would  be, 
if  not  free,  at  least  returned  to  the  world.  His  prison 
would  become  a  habitable  abode,  no  more  solitary  confine- 
ment ;  his  friends  would  visit  him,  he  might  receive  whom- 
soever he  wished  to  see. 

It  was  no  longer  the  magistrate  who  spoke  ;  it  was  a 
father,  who,  no  matter  what  happens,  always  keeps  in  the 
recesses  of  his  heart,  the  greatest  indulgence  for  his  child. 
M.  Daburon  did  even  more.  For  a  moment  he  imagined 
himself  in  Albert's  position.  What  would  he  have  done 
after  the  terrible  revelation  ?  He  scarcely  dared  ask  him- 
self. He  understood  the  motive  which  prompted  the 
murder  of  Widow  Le rouge  ;  he  could  explain  it  to  himself ; 
he  could  almost  excuse  it.  (Another  trap.)  It  was  cer- 
tainly  a  great  crime,  but  in  no  way  revolting  to  conscience 
or  to  reason.  It  was  one  of  those  crimes  which  society 
might,  if  not  forget,  at  least  forgive  up  to  a  certain  point, 
because  the  motive  was  not  a  shameful  one.  What  tribu- 
nal would  fail  to  find  extenuating  circumstances  for  a 
moment  of  frenzy  so  excusable.  Besides  was  not  the 
Count  de  Commarin  the  more  guilty  of  the  two  ?  Was  it 
not  his  folly  that  prepared  the  way  for  this  terrible  event  ? 
His  son  was  the  victim  of  fatality,  and  was  in  the  highest 
degree  to  be  pitied.  M.  Daburon  spoke  for  a  long  time 
upon  this  text,  seeking  those  things  most  suitable  in  his 
opinion  to  soften  the  hardened  heart  of  an  assassin.  And 
he  arrived  always  at  the  same  conclusion, — the  wisdom  of 
confessing.  But  he  wasted  his  eloquence  precisely  as  |M. 


224  THE  LEROUGE  CASE. 

Tabaret  had  wasted  his.  Albert  appeared  in  no  way  af- 
fected. His  answers  were  of  the  shortest.  He  began  and 
ended  as  on  the  first  occasion,  by  protesting  his  inno- 
cence. 

One  test,  which  has  often  given  the  desired  result,  still 
remained  to  be  tried.  On  this  same  day,  Saturday,  Albert 
was  confronted  with  the  corpse  of  Widow  Lerouge.  He 
appeared  impressed  by  the  sad  sight,  but  no  more  than 
anyone  would  be,  if  forced  to  look  at  the  •  victim  of  an 
assassination  four  days  after  the  crime.  One  of  the 
bystanders  having  exclaimed :  "  Ah,  if  she  could  but 
speak  !  "  He  replied  :  "  That  would  be  very  fortunate 
for  me."  Since  morning,  M.  Daburon  had  not  gained  the 
least  advantage.  He  had  had  to  acknowledge  the  failure 
of  his  manoeuvres ;  and  now  this  last  attempt  had  not  suc- 
ceeded either.  The  prisoner's  continued  calmness  filled 
to  overflowing  the  exasperation  of  this  man  so  sure  of  his 
guilt.  His  spite  was  evident  to  all,  when,  suddenly  ceasing 
his  wheedling,  he  harshly  gave  the  order  to  re-conduct  the 
prisoner  to  his  cell.  "  I  will  compel  him  to  confess  !  "  he 
muttered  between  his  teeth.  Perhaps  he  regretted  those 
gentle  instruments  of  investigation  of  the  middle  ages, 
which  compelled  the  prisoner  to  say  whatever  one  wished 
to  hear.  Never,  thought  he,  did  any  one  ever  meet  a  cul- 
prit like  this.  What  could  he  reasonably  hope  for  from 
his  system  of  persistent  denial  ?  This  obstinacy,  absurd  in 
presence  of  such  absolute  proofs,  drove  the  magistrate  in- 
to a  rage.  Had  Albert  confessed  his  guilt,  he  would  have 
found  M.  Daburon  disposed  to  pity  him  ;  but  as  he  denied 
it,  he  opposed  himself  to  an  implacable  enemy. 

It  was  the  very  falseness  of  the  situation  which  misled 
and  blinded  this  magistrate,  naturally  so  kind  and  gener- 
ous. Having  previously  wished  Albert  innocent,  he  now 
absolutely  longed  to  prove  him  guilty,  and  that  for  a  hun- 
dred reasons  which  he  was  unable  to  analyze.  He 
remembered,  too  well,  his  having  had  the  Viscount  de 
Commarin  for  a  rival,  and  his  having  nearly  assassinated 
him.  Had  he  not  repented  even  to  remorse  his  having 
signed  the  warrant  of  arrest,  and  his  having  accepted  the 
duty  of  investigating  the  case.  Old  Tabaret's  incompre- 
hensible change  of  opinion  troubled  him,  too.  All  these 
feelings  combined,  inspired  M.  Daburon  with  a  feverish 
hatred,  and  urged  him  on  in  the  path  which  he  had  chosen. 


TJ1E  LE ROUGE  CASE.         •  225 

It  was  now  less  the  proofs  of  Albert's  guilt  which  he 
sought  for*  than  the  justification  of  his  own  conduct  as 
magistrate.  The  investigation  became  embittered  like  a 
personal  matter.  In  fact,  were  the  prisoner  innocent,  he 
would  become  inexcusable  in  his  own  eyes ;  and,  in  pro- 
portion as  he  reproached  himself  the  more  severely,  and 
as  the  knowledge  of  his  own  failings  grew,  he  felt  the 
more  disposed  to  try  everything  to  conquer  his  former 
rival,  even  to  abusing  his  own  power.  The  logic  of  events 
urged  him  on.  It  seemed  as  though  his  honour  itself  was 
at  stake ;  and  he  displayed  a  passionate  activity,  such  as 
he  had  never  before  been  known  to  show  in  any  investiga- 
tion. 

M.  Daburon  passed  all  Sunday  in  listening  to  the 
reports  of  the  detectives  he  had  sent  to  Bougival.  They 
had  spared  no  trouble,  they  stated,  but  they  could  report  jnoth- 
ing  new.  They  had  heard  many  people  speak  of  a  woman, 
who  pretended,  they  said,  to  have  seen  the  assassin  leave 
Widow  Lerouge's  cottage ;  but  no  one  had  been  able  to 
point  this  woman  out  to  them,  or  even  to  give  them  her 
name.  They  all  thought  it  their  duty,  however,  to  inform 
the  magistrate  that  another  inquiry  was  going  on  at  the  same 
time  as  theirs.  It  was  directed  by  M.  Tabaret,  who  person- 
ally scoured'the  country  round  about  in  a  cabriolet  drawn  by 
a  very  swift  horse.  He  must  have  acted  with  great  prompt- 
ness ;  for,  no  matter  where  they  went,  he  had  been  there 
before  them.  He  appeared  to  have  under  his  orders  a 
dozen  men,  four  of  whom  at  least  certainly  belonged  to 
the  Rue  de  Jerusalem.  All  the  detectives  had  met  him  ; 
and  he  had  spoken  to  them.  To  one,  he  had  said : 
"  What  the  deuce  are  you  showing  this  photograph  for  ? 
In  less  than  no  time  you  will  have  a  crowd  of  witnesses, 
who,  to  earn  three  francs,  will  describe  some  one  more 
like  the  portrait  than  the  portrait  itself."  He  had  met 
another  on  the  high-road,  and  had  laughed  at  him.  "  You 
are  a  simple  fellow,"  he  cried  out,  "  to  hunt  for  a  hiding 
man  on  the  high-way ;  look  a  little  aside,  and  you  may 
find  him."  Again  he  had  accosted  two  who  were  together 
in  a  cafe  at  Bougival,  and  had  taken  them  aside.  "  I 
have  him,"  he  said  to  them.  "  He  is  a  smart  fellow ; 
he  came  by  Chatou.  Three  people  have  seen  him — 
two  railway  porters  and  a  third  person  whose  testimony 
will  be  decisive,  for  she  spoke  to  him.  He  was  smoking." 


226  THE  LEROUGE  CASE. 

M.  Daburon  became  so  angry  with  old  Tabaret,,  that  he 
immediately  started  for  Bougival,  firmly  resolved  to  bring 
the  too  zealous  man  back  to  Paris,  and  to  report  his  con- 
duct in  the  proper  quarter.  The  journey,  however,  was 
useless.  M.  Tabaret,  the  cabriolet,  the  swift  horse,  and 
the  twelve  men  had  all  disappeared,  or  at  least  were  not 
to  be  found.  On  returning  home,  greatly  fatigued,  and 
very  much  out  of  temper,  the  investigating  magistrate  found 
the  following  telegram  from  the  chief  of  the  detective  force 
awaiting  him  ;  it  was  brief,  but  to  the  point : 

"  ROUEN,  Sunday. 

"  The  man  is  found.  This  evening  we  start  for  Paris. 
The  most  valuable  testimony.  GEVROL." 


XV. 

ON  the  Monday  morning,  at  nine  o'clock,  M.  Daburon 
was  preparing  to  start  for  the  Palais  de  Justice,  where  he 
expected  to  find  Gevrol  and  his  man,  and  perhaps  old 
Tabaret.  His  preparations  were  nearly  made,  when  his 
servant  announced  that  a  young  lady,  accompanied  by 
another  considerably  older,  asked  to  speak  with  him.  She 
declined  giving  her  name,  saying,  however,  that  she  would 
not  refuse  it,  if  it  was  absolutely  necessary  in  order  to  be 
received. 

"  Show  them  in,"  said  the  magistrate. 

He  thought  it  must  be  a  relation  of  one  or  other  of  the 
prisoners,  whose  case  he  had  had  in  hand  when  this  fresh 
crime  occurred.  He  determined  to  send  her  away  quickly. 
He  was  standing  before  the  fireplace,  seeking  for  an  ad- 
dress in  a  small  china  plate  filled  with  visiting  cards.  At 
the  sound  of  the  opening  of  the  door,  at  the  rustling  of  a 
silk  dress  gliding  by  the  window,  he  did  not  take  the 
trouble  to  move,  nor  deign  even  to  turn  his  head.  He 
contented  himself  with  merely  casting  a  careless  glance 
into  the  mirror.  But  he  immediately  started  with  a  move- 
ment of  dismay,  as  if  he  had  seen  a  ghost.  In  his  confu- 
sion, he  dropped  the  card-plate,  which  fell  noisily  on  to 
the  hearth,  and  broke  into  a  thousand  pieces. 

"  Claire  !  "  he  stammered,  "  Claire  !  " 

And  as  if  he  feared  equally  either  being  deceived  by 
an  illusion,  or  actually  seeing  her  whose  name  he  had  ut- 


THE  LEROUGE  CASE.  227 

tered,  he  turned  slowly  round.  It  was  truly  Mademoiselle 
d'Arlange.  This  young  girl,  usually  so  proud  and  reserved, 
had  had  the  courage  to  come  to  his  house  alone,  or  almost 
so,  for  her  governess,  whom  she  had  left  in  the  ante-room, 
could  hardly  count.  She  was  evidently  obeying  some 
powerful  emotion,  since  it  made  her  forget  her  habitual 
timidity.  Never,  even  in  the  time  when  a  sight  of  her 
was  his  greatest  happiness,  had  she  appeared  to  him  more 
fascinating.  Her  beauty,  ordinarily  veiled  by  a  sweet  sad 
ness,  was  bright  and  shining.  Her  features  had  an  ani- 
mation which  he  had  never  seen  in  them  before.  In 
her  eyes,  rendered  more  brilliant  by  recent  tears  but 
partly  wiped  away,  shone  the  noblest  resolution.  One 
could  see  that  she  was  conscious  of  performing  a  great 
duty,  and  that  she  performed  it,  if  not  with  pleasure,  at 
least  with  that  simplicity  which  in  itself  is  heroism. 

She  advanced  calm  and  dignified,  and  held  out  her 
hand  to  the  magistrate  in  that  English  style  that  some 
ladies  can  render  so  gracefully.  "We  are  always  friends, 
are  we  not  ?  "  asked  she,  with  a  sad  smile. 

The  magistrate  did  not  dare  take  the  ungloved  hand 
she  held  out  to  him.  He  -scarcely  touched  it  with  the  tips 
o'f  his  fingers,  as  though  he  feared  too  great  an  emotion. 
"  Yes,"  he  replied  indistinctly,  "  I  am  always  devoted  to 
you." 

Mademoiselle  d'Arlange  sat  down  in  the  large  arm- 
chair, where,  two  nights  previously,  old  Tabaret  had 
planned  Albert's  arrest.  M.  Daburon  remained  standing 
leaning  against  his  writing-table.  "  You  know  why  I  have 
come  ?  "  asked  the  young  girl. 

With  a  nod,  he  replied  in  the  affirmative. 

He  divined  her  object  only  too  easily;  and  he  was  ask- 
ing himself  whether  he  would  be  able  to  resist  prayers 
from  such  a  mouth.  What  was  she  about  to  ask  of  him  ? 
What  could  he  refuse  her  ?  Ah,  if  he  had  but  foreseen 
this  ?  He  had  not  yet  got  over  his  surprise. 

"  I  only  knew  of  this  dreadful  event  yesterday,"  pursued 
Claire  ;  "  my  grandmother  considered  it  best  to  hide  it 
from  me,  and,  but  for  my  devoted  Schmidt,  I  should  still 
be  ignorant  of  it  all.  What  a  night  I  have  passed !  At 
first  I  was  terrified  ;  but,  when  they  told  me  that  all  de- 
pended upon  you,  my  fears  were  dispelled.  It  is  for  my 
sake,  is  it  not,  that  you  have  undertaken  *his  investiga- 


228  THE  LEROUGE  CASE. 

tion  ?  Oh,  you  are  good,  I  know  it !  How  can  I  ever  ex- 
press my  gratitude  ?  " 

What  humiliation  for  the  worthy  magistrate  were  these 
heartfelt  thanks  !  Yes,  he  had  at  first  thought  of  Mademoi- 
selle d'Arlange,  but  since —  He  bowed  his  head  to  avoid 
Claire's  glance,  so  pure  and  so  daring.  "Do  not  thank 
me,  mademoiselle,"  he  stammered,  "  1  have  not  the  claim 
that  you  think  upon  your  gratitude." 

Claire  had  been  too  troubled  herself,  at  first,  to  notice 
the  magistrate's  agitation.  The  trembling  of  his  voice 
attracted  her  attention ,  but  she  did  not  suspect  the  cause. 
She  thought  that  her  presence  recalled  sad  memories, 
that  he  doubtless  still  loved  her,  and  that  he  suffered. 
This  idea  saddened  her,  and  filled  her  with  self-reproach. 
"And  yet,  sir,"  she  continued,  "  I  thank  you  all  the  same. 
I  might  never  have  dared  go  to  another  magistrate,  to 
speak  to  a  stranger !  Besides,  what  value  would  another 
attach  to  my  words,  not  knowing  me  ?  While  you,  so 
generous,  will  re-assure  me,  will  tell  me  by  what  awful 
mistake  he  has  been  arrested  like  a  villain  and  thrown  into 
prison." 

"  Alas ! "  sighed  the  magistrate,  so  low  that  Claire 
scarcely  heard  him,  and  did  not  understand  the  terrible 
meaning  of  the  exclamation. 

"  With  you,"  she  continued,  I  am  not  afraid.  You  are 
my  friend,  you  told  me  so  ;  you  will  not  refuse  my  prayers. 
Give  him  his  liberty  quickly.  I  do  not  know  exactly  of 
what  he  is  accused,  but  I  swear  to  you  that  he  is  inno- 
cent." 

Claire  spoke  in  the  positive  manner  of  one  who  saw  no 
obstacle  in  the  way  of  the  very  simple  and  natural  desire 
which  she  had  expressed.  A  formal  assurance  given  by 
her  ought  to  be  amply  sufficient ;  with  a  word,  M.  Daburon 
would  repair  everything.  The  magistrate  was  silent.  He 
admired  that  saint-like  ignorance  of  everything,  that  art- 
less and  frank  confidence  which  doubted  nothing.  She 
had  commenced  by  wounding  him,  unconsciously,  it  is 
true,  but  he  had  quite  forgotten  that.  He  was  really  an 
upright  man,  as  good  as  the  best,  as  is  proved  from  the 
fact  that  he  trembled  at  the  moment  of  unveiling  the  fatal 
truth.  He  hesitated  to  pronounce  the  words  which,  like  a 
whirlwind,  would  overturn  the  fragile  edifice  of  this  young 
girl's  happiness.  He  who  had  been  so  humiliated,  so  de- 


THE  LE ROUGE  CASE.  229 

spised,  he  was  going  to  have  his  revenge  ;  and  yet  he  did 
not  experience  the  least  feeling  of  a  shameful,  though 
easily  understood,  satisfaction. 

"  And  if  I  should  tell  you,  mademoiselle,"  he  com- 
menced, "  that  M.  Albert  is  not  innocent  ?  "  She  half-raised 
herself  with  a  protesting  gesture.  He  continued,  "  If  I 
should  tell  you  that  he  is  guilty  ?  " 

"  Oh,  sir  !  "  interrupted  Claire,  "  you  cannot  think  so  !  " 

"  I  do  think  so,  mademoiselle,"  exclaimed  the  magis- 
trate in  a  sad  voice,  "  and  I  must  add  that  I  am  morally 
certain  of  it." 

Claire  looked  at  the  investigating  magistrate  with  pro- 
found amazement.  Could  it  be  really  he  who  was  speak- 
ing thus.  Had  she  heard  him  aright  ?  Did  she  under- 
stand ?  She  was  far  from  sure.  Had  he  answered  seri- 
ously ?  Was  he  not  deluding  her  by  a  cruel  unworthy 
jest  ?  She  asked  herself  this  scarcely  knowing  what  she 
did  :  for  to  her  everything  appeared  possible,  probable, 
rather  than  that  which  he  had  said. 

Not  daring  to  raise  his  eyes,  he  continued  in  a  tone,  ex- 
pressive of  the  sincerest  pity,  "  I  suffer  cruelly  for  you  at 
this  moment,  mademoiselle ;  but  I  have  the  sad  courage 
to  tell  you  the  truth,  and  you  must  summon  yours  to  hear 
it.  It  is  far  better  that  you  should  know  everything  from 
the  mouth  of  a  friend.  Summon,  then,  all  your  fortitude  ; 
strengthen  your  noble  soul  against  a  most  dreadful  mis- 
fortune. No,  there  is  no  mistake.  Justice  has  not  been 
deceived.  The  Viscount  de  Commarin  is  accused  of  an 
assassination  ;  and  everything,  you  understand  me,  proves 
that  he  committed  it." 

Like  a  doctor,  who  pours  out  drop  by  drop  a  dangerous 
medicine.  M.  Daburon  pronounced  this  last  sentence 
slowly,  word  by  word.  He  watched  carefully  the  result, 
ready  to  cease  speaking,  if  the  shock  was  too  great.  He 
did  not  suppose  that  this  young  girl,  timid  to  excess,  with 
a  sensitiveness  almost  a  disease,  would  be  able  to  hear 
without  flinching  such  a  terrible  revelation.  He  expected  a 
burst  of  despair,  tears,  distressing  cries.  She  might  perhaps 
faint  away;  and  he  stood  ready  to  call  in  the  worthy 
Schmidt.  He  was  mistaken.  Claire  drew  herself  up  full 
of  energy  and  courage.  The  flame  of  indignation  flushed 
her  cheeks,  and  dried  her  tears. 

"  It  is  false,"  she  cried,  "  and  those  who  say  it  are  liars ! 


230  THE  LEROUGE  CASE. 

He  cannot  be — no,  he  cannot  be  an  assassin.  If  he  were 
here,  sir,  and  should  himself  say,  '  It  is  true,'  I  would  re- 
fuse to  believe  it ;  I  would  still  cry  out,  '  It  is  false  ! ' ' 

"  He  has  not  yet  admitted  it,"  continued  the  magistrate, 

"  but  he  will  confess.     Even  if  he  should  not,  there  are 

'  more  proofs  than  are  needed  to  convict  him.     The  charges 

against  him  are  as  impossible  to  deny  as  is  the  sun  which 

shines  upon  us." 

"  Ah  !  well,"  interrupted  Mademoiselle  d'Arlange,  in  a 
voice  filled  with  emotion,  "  I  assert,  I  repeat,  that  justice 
is  deceived.  Yes,"  she  persisted,  in  answer  to  the  mag- 
istrate's gesture  of  denial,  "yes,  he  is  innocent.  I  am  sure 
of  it ;  and  I  would  proclaim  it,  even  were  the  whole  world 
to  join  with  you  in  accusing  him.  Do  you  not  see  that  I 
know  him  better  even  than  he  can  know  himself,  that  my 
faith  in  him  is  absolute,  as  is  my  faith  in  God,  that  I 
would  doubt  myself  before  doubting  him  ?  " 

The  investigating  magistrate  attempted  timidly  to  make 
an  objection ;  Claire  quickly  interrupted  him.  "  Must  I 
then,  sir,"  said  she,  "  in  order  to  convince  you,  forget 
that  I  am  a  young  girl,  and  that  I  am  not  talking  to  my 
mother,  but  to  a  man!  For  his  sake  I  will  do  so.  It  is 
four  years,  sir,  since  we  first  loved  each  other.  Since  that 
time,  I  have  not  kept  a  single  one  of  my  thoughts  from 
him,  nor  has  he  hid  one  of  his  from  me.  For  four  years, 
there  has  never  been  a  secret  between  us ;  he  lived  in  me, 
as  I  lived  in  him.  I  alone  can  say  how  worthy  he  is  to  be 
loved ;  I  alone  know  all  that  grandeur  of  soul,  nobleness 
of  thought,  generosity  of  feelings,  out  of  which  you  have 
so  easily  made  an  assassin.  And  I  have  seen  him,  oh !  so 
unhappy,  while  all  the  world  envied  his  lot  He  is,  like 
me,  alone  in  the  world ;  his  father  never  loved  him.  Sus- 
tained one  by  the  other,  we  have  passed  through  many 
unhappy  days;  and  it  is  at  the  very  moment  our  trials  are 
ending  that  he  has  become  a  criminal  ?  Why  ?  tell  me, 
why  ?  " 

"  Neither  the  name  nor  the  fortune  of  the  Count  de 
Commarin  would  descend  to  him,  mademoiselle  ;  and  the 
knowledge  of  it  came  upon  him  with  a  sudden  shock. 
One  old  woman  alone  was  able  to  prove  this.  To  main- 
tain his  position,  he  killed  her." 

"  What  infamy,"  cried  the  young  girl.  "  what  a  shame- 
ful, wicked,  calumny !  I  know,  sir,  that  story  of  fallen 


THE  LE ROUGE  CASE.  231 

greatness ;  he  himself  told  me  of  it.  It  is  true,  that  for 
three  days  this  misfortune  unmanned  him  ;  but,  if  he  was 
dismayed,  it  was  on  my  account  more  than  his  own.  He 
was  distressed  at  thinking  that  perhaps  I  should  be 
grieved,  when  he  confessed  to  me  that  he  could  no  longer 
give  me  all  that  his  love  dreamed  of.  I  grieved  ?  Ah ! 
what  to  me  are  that  great  name,  that  immense  wealth  ? 
I  owe  to  them  the  only  unhappiness  I  have  ever  known. 
Was  it,  then,  for  such  things  that  I  loved  him  ?  It  was  thus 
that  I  replied  to  him  ;  and  he,  so  sad,  immediately  recov- 
ered his  gaiety.  He  thanked  me,  saying,  '  You  love  me  ; 
the  rest  is  of  no  consequence.'  I  chided  him,  then,  for 
having  doubted  me  ;  and  after  that,  you  pretend  that  he 
cowardly  assassinated  an  old  woman  ?  You  would  not 
dare  repeat  it." 

Mademoiselle  d'Arlange  ceased  speaking,  a  smile  of 
victory  on  her  lips.  That  smile  meant,  "  At  last  I  have 
attained  my  end  :  you  are  conquered ;  what  can  you  reply 
to  all  that  I  have  said  ?  " 

The  investigating  magistrate  did  not  long  leave  this 
smiling  illusion  to  the  unhappy  child.  He  did  not  per- 
ceive how  cruel  and  offensive  was  his  persistence.  Al- 
ways the  same  predominant  idea !  In  persuading  Claire, 
he  would  justify  his  own  conduct  to  himself.  "  You  do 
not  know,  mademoiselle,"  he  resumed,  "  how  a  sudden 
calamity  may  effect  a  good  man's  reason.  It  is  only  at 
the  time  a  thing  escapes  us  that  we  feel  the  greatness  of 
the  loss.  God  preserve  me  from  doubting  all  that  you 
have  said ;  but  picture  to  yourself  the  immensity  of  the 
blow  which  struck  M.  de  Commarin.  Can  you  say  that  on 
leaving  you  he  did  not  give  way  to  despair  ?  Think  of  the 
extremities  to  which  it  may  have  led  him.  He  may  have 
been  for  a  time  bewildered,  and  have  acted  unconsciously. 
Perhaps  this  is  the  way  the  crime  should  be  explained. 

Mademoiselle  d'Arlange's  face  grew  deathly  pale,  and 
betrayed  the  utmost  terror.  The  magistrate  thought  that 
at  last  doubt  had  begun  to  effect  her  pure  and  noble  belief. 
"  He  must,  then,  have  been  mad,"  she  murmured. 

"  Possibly,"  replied  the  magistrate ;  "  and  yet  the  cir- 
cumstances of  the  crime  denote  a  well-laid  plan.  Believe 
me,  then,  mademoiselle,  and  do  not  be  too  confident. 
Pray,  and  wait  patiently  for  the  issue  of  this  terrible  trial. 
Listen  to  my  voice,  it  is  that  of  a  friend.  You  used  to 


2^2  THE  LEROUGE  CASE. 

have  in  me  the  confidence  a  daughter  gives  to  her  father, 
you  told  me  so  ;  do  not,  then,  refuse  my  advice.  Remain 
silent  and  wait.  Hide  your  grief  to  all ;  you  might  here- 
after regret  having  exposed  it.  Young,  inexperienced, 
without  a  guide,  without  a  mother,  alas  !  you  sadly  mis- 
placed your  first  affections." 

"  No,  sir,  no,"  stammered  Claire.  "  Ah  !  she  added, 
"  you  talk  like  the  rest  of  the  world,  that  prudent  and 
egotistical  world,  which  I  despise  and  hate." 

"  Poor  child,"  continued  M.  Daburon,  pitiless  even  in 
his  compassion,  "  unhappy  young  girl  !  This  is  your  first 
deception  !  Nothing  more  terrible  could  be  imagined  ; 
few  women  would  know  how  to  bear  it.  But  you  are 
young  ;  you  are  brave  ;  your  life  will  not  be  ruined.  Here- 
after you  will  feel  horrified  at  this  crime.  There  is  no 
wound,  I  know  by  experience,  which  time  does  not  heal." 

Claire  tried  to  grasp  what  the  magistrate  was  saying, 
but  his  words  reached  her  only  as  confused  sounds,  their 
meaning  entirely  escaped  her.  "  I  do  not  understand  you, 
sir,"  she  said.  "  What  advice,  then,  do  you  give  me  ?  ". 

"  The  only  advice  that  reason  dictates,  and  that  my 
affection  for  you  can  suggest,  mademoiselle.  I  speak  to 
you  as  a  kind  and  devoted  brother.  I  say  to  you  : '  Cour- 
age, Claire,  resign  yourself  to  the  saddest,  the  greatest 
sacrifice  which  honour  can  ask  of  a  young  girl.  Weep, 
yes,  weep  for  your  deceived  love ;  but  forget  it.  Pray 
heaven  to  help  you  do  so.  He  whom  you  have  loved  is 
no  longer  worthy  of  you.'  " 

The  magistrate  stopped  slightly  frightened.  Mademoi- 
selle d'Arlange  had  become  livid.  But  though  the  body 
was  weak,  the  soul  still  remained  firm.  "  You  said,  just 
now,"  she  murmured,  "  that  he  could  only  have  committed 
this  crime  in  a  moment  of  distraction,  in  a  fit  of  madness  ?  " 

"  Yes,  it  is  possible." 

"Then,  sir,  not  knowing  what  he  did,  he  can  not  be 
guilty." 

The  investigating  magistrate  forgot  a  certain  trouble- 
some question,  which  he  put  to  himself  one  morning  in 
bed  after  his  illness.  "  Neither  justice  nor  society,  made- 
moiselle," he  replied,  "  can  take  that  into  account.  God 
alone,  who  sees  into  the  depths  of  our  hearts,  can  judge, 
can  decide  those  questions  which  human  justice  must  pass 
by.  In  our  eyes,  M.  de  Commarin  is  a  criminal.  There 


THE  LEKOUGE  CASE.  233 

may  be  certain  extenuating  circumstances  to  soften  the 
punishment ;  but  the  moral  effect  will  be  the  same.  Even 
if  he  were  acquitted,  and  I  wish  he  may  be,  but  without 
hope,  he  will  not  be  less  unworthy.  He  will  always  carry 
the  dishonour,  the  stain  of  blood  cowardly  shed.  There- 
fore, forget  him." 

Mademoiselle  d'Arlange  stopped  the  magistrate  with  a 
look  in  which  flashed  the  strongest  resentment.  "That  is 
to  say,"  she  exclaimed,  "  that  you  counsel  me  to  abandon 
him  in  his  misfortune.  All  the  world  deserts  him ;  and 
your  prudence  advises  me  to  act  with  the  world.  Men 
behave  thus,  I  have  heard,  when  one  of  their  friends  is 
down  ;  but  women  never  do.  Look  about  you ;  however 
humiliated,  however  wretched,  however  low,  a  man  may 
be,  you  will  always  find  a  woman  near  to  sustain  and 
console  him.  When  the  last  friend  has  boldly  taken  to 
flight,  when  the  last  relation  has  abandoned  him,  woman 
remains." 

The  magistrate  regretted  having  been  carried  away  per- 
haps a  little  too  far.  Claire's  excitement  frightened  him. 
He  tried,  but  in  vain,  to  stop  her. 

"  I  may  be  timid,"  she  continued  with  increasing  energy, 
but  I  am  no  coward.  I  chose  Albert  voluntarily  from 
amongst  all.  Whatever  happens,  I  will  never  desert  him. 
No,  I  will  never  say,  '  I  do  not  know  this  man.'  He  would 
have  given  me  half  of  his  prosperity,  and  of  his  glory.  I 
will  share,  whether  he  wishes  it  or  not,  half  of  his  shame 
and  of  his  misfortune.  Between  two,  the  burden  will  be 
less  heavy  to  bear.  Strike !  I  will  cling  so  closely  to  him 
that  no  blow  shall  touch  him  without  reaching  me,  too. 
You  counsel  me  to  forget  him.  Teach  me,  then,  how  to. 
I  forget  him  ?  Could  I,  even  if  I  wished  ?  But  I  do  not 
wish  it.  I  love  him.  It  is  no  more  in  my  power  to  cease 
loving  him  than  it  is  to  arrest,  by  the  sole  effort  of  my  will, 
the  beating  of  my  heart.  He  is  a  prisoner,  accused  of 
murder.  So  be  it.  I  love  him.  He  is  guilty  !  What  of 
that?  I  love  him.  You  will  condemn  him,  you  will  dis- 
honour him.  Condemned  and  dishonoured,.!  shall  love 
him  still.  You  will  send  him  to  a  convict  prison.  I  will 
follow  him  ;  and  in  the  prison,  under  the  convict's  dress, 
I  will  yet  love  him.  If  he  falls  to  the  bottom  of  the  abyss, 
I  will  fall  with  him.  My  life  is  his,  let  him  dispose  of  it. 
No,  nothing  will  separate  me  from  him,  nothing  short  of 


234  THE  LEROUGE  CASE 

death  !  And,  if  he  must  mount  the  scaffold,  I  shall  die,  1 
know  it,  from  the  blow  which  kills  him." 

M.  Daburon  had  buried  his  face  in  his  hands.  He  did 
not  wish  Claire  to  perceive  a  'trace  of  the  emotion  which 
affected  him.  "  How  she  loves  him !  "  he  thought,  "  how 
she  loves  him  !  "  His  mind  was  sunk  in  the  darkest 
thoughts.  All  the  stings  of  jealousy  were  rending  him. 
What  would  not  be  his  delight,  if  he  were  the  object  of  so 
irresistible  a  passion  as  that  which  burst  forth  before  him  ! 
What  would  he  not  give  in  return  !  He  had,  too,  a  young 
and  ardent  soul,  a  burning  thirst  for  love.  But  who  had 
ever  thought  of  that  ?  He  had  been  esteemed,  respected, 
perhaps  feared,  but  not  loved ;  and  he  never  would  be. 
Was  he,  then,  unworthy  of  it  ?  Why  do  so  many  men  pass 
through  life  dispossessed  of  love,  while  others,  the  vilest 
beings  sometimes,  seem  to  possess  a  mysterious  power, 
which  charms  and  seduces,  and  inspires  those  blind  and 
impetuous  feelings  which  to  assert  themselves  rush  to  the 
sacrifice  all  the  while  longing  for  it  ?  Have  women,  then, 
no  reason,  no  discernment  ? 

Mademoiselle  d'Arlange's  silence  brought  the  magistrate 
back  to  the  reality.  He  raised  his  eyes  to  her.  Over- 
come by  the  violence  of  her  emotion,  she  lay  back  in  her 
chair,  and  breathed  with  such  difficulty  that  M.  Daburon 
feared  she  was  about  to  faint.  He  moved  quickly  towards 
the  bell,  to  summon  aid  ;  but  Claire  noticed  the  movement, 
and  stopped  him.  "  What  would  you  do  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  You  seemed  suffering  so,"  he  stammered,  "  that  I — " 

"It  is  nothing,  sir,"  replied  she.  "  I  may  seem  weak  ; 
but  I  am  not  so.  I  am  strong,  believe  me,  very  strong. 
It  is  true  that  I  suffer,  as  I  never  believed  that  one  could 
suffer.  It  is  cruel  for  a  young  girl  to  have  to  do  violence 
to  all  her  feelings.  You  ought  to  be  satisfied,  sir.  I  have 
torn  aside  all  veils  ;  and  you  have  read  even  the  inmost  re- 
cesses of  my  heart.  But  I  do  not  regret  it ;  it  was  for  his 
sake.  That  which  I  do  regret  is  my  having  lowered  my 
self  so  far  as  to  defend  him  ;  but  he  will  forgive  me  that 
one  doubt.  Your  assurance  took  me  unawares.  A  man 
like  him  does  not  need  defence  :  his  innocence  must  be 
proved  ;  and,  God  helping  me,  I  will  prove  it." 

As  Claire  was  half-rising  to  depart,  M.  Daburon  de- 
tained her  by  a  gesture.  In  his  blindness,  he  thought  he 
would  be  doing  wrong  to  leave  this  poor  young  girl  in  the 


THE  LE ROUGE  CASE.  235 

• 

slightest  way  deceived.  Having  gone  so  far  as  to  begin, 
he  persuaded  himself  that  his  duty  bade  him  go  on  to  the 
end.  He  said  to  himself,  in  all  good  faith,  that  he  would 
thus  preserve  Claire  from  herself,  and  spare  her  in  the 
future  many  bitter  regrets.  The  surgeon  who  has  com- 
menced a  painful  operation  does  not  leave  it  half-finished 
because  the  patient  struggles,  suffers,  and  cries  out.  "  It 
is  painful,  Mademois-elle, — "  he  began. 

Claire  did  not  let  him  finish.  "  Enough,  sir,"  said  she  : 
"  all  that  you  can  say  will  be  of  no  avail.  I  respect  your 
unhappy  conviction.  I  ask,  in  return,  the  same  regard  for 
mine.  If  you  were  truly  my  friend,  I  would  ask  you  to  aid 
me  in  the  task  of  saving  him,  to  which  I  am  about  to  de- 
vote myself.  But,  doubtless,  you  would  not  do  so." 

"  If  you  knew  the  proofs  which  I  possess,  mademoiselle," 
he  said  in  a  cold  tone,  which  expressed  his  determination 
not  to  give  way  to  anger,  "if  I  detailed  them  to  you 
you  would  no  longer  hope." 

"  Speak,  sir,"  cried  Claire  imperiously, 

"  You  wish  it,  mademoiselle  ?  Very  well ;  I  will  give 
you  in  detail  all  the  evidence  we  have  collected.  I  am 
entirely  yours,  as  you  are  aware.  But  yet,  why  should  I 
harass  you  with  all  these  proofs  ?  There  is  one  which 
alone  is  decisive.  The  murder  was  committed  on  the 
evening  of  Shrove  Tuesday  :  and  the  prisoner  cannot  give 
an  account  of  what  he  did  on  that  evening.  He  went  out, 
however,  and  only  returned  home  about  two  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  his  clothes  soiled  and  torn,  and  his  gloves 
frayed." 

"  Oh  !  enough,  sir,  enough  !  "  interrupted  Claire,  whose 
eyes  beamed  once  more  with  happiness.  "  You  say  it  was 
on  Shrove  Tuesday  evening  ?  " 

"  Yes,  mademoiselle." 

"  Ah  !  I  was  sure,"  she  cried  triumphantly.  "  I  told  you 
truly  that  he  could  not  be  guilty." 

She  clasped  her  hands,  and,  from  the  movement  of  her 
lips,  it  was  evident  that  she  was  praying.  The  expression 
of  the  most  perfect  faith  represented  by  some  of  the.Italian 
painters  illuminated  her  beautiful  face  while  she  rendered 
thanks  to  God  in  the  effusion  of  her  gratitude. 

The  magistrate  was  so  disconcerted,  that  he  forgot  to 
admire  her.  He  awaited  an  explanation.  "  Well  ?  "  he 
asked  impatiently. 


2.30  THK  LE ROUGE  CASE. 

"  Sir,"  replied  Claire,  "  if  that  is  your  strongest  proof,  it 
exists  no  longer.  Albert  passed  the  entire  evening  you 
speak  of  with  me." 

"  With  you  ?  "  stammered  the  magistrate. 

"  Yes,  with  me,  at  my  home." 

M.  Daburon  was  astounded.  Was  he  dreaming  ?  Ho 
hardly  knew. 

"  What !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  the  viscount  was  at  youi 
house  ?  Your  grandmother,  your  companion,  your  ser- 
vants, they  all  saw  him  and  spoke  to  him  ?  " 

"  No,  sir  ;  he  came  and  left  in  secret.  He  wished  no 
one  to  see  him  ;  he  desired  to  be  alone  with  me." 

"  Ah  !  "  said  the  magistrate  with  a  sigh  of  relief. 

The  sigh  signified :  "  It's  all  clear — only  too  evident. 
She  is  determined  to  save  him,  at  the  risk  even  of  com- 
promising her  reputation.  Poor  girl !  But  has  this  idea 
only  just  occurred  to  her  ? " 

The  "  Ah  !  "  was  interpreted  very  differently  by  Mad- 
emoiselle d'Arlange.  She  thought  that  M.  Daburon  was 
astonished  at  her  consenting  to  receive  Albert. 

"  Your  surprise  is  an  insult,  sir,"  said  she. 

"  Mademoiselle  ! " 

"  A  daughter  of  my  family,  sir,  may  receive  her  betrothed 
without  danger  of  anything  occurring  for  which  she  would 
have  to  blush." 

She  spoke  thus,  and  at  the  same  timeVas  red  with  shame, 
grief,  and  anger.  She  began  to  hate  M.  Daburon. 

"  I  had  no  such  insulting  thought  as  you  imagine,  mad- 
emoiselle," said  the  magistrate.  "  I  was  only  wondering 
how  M.  de  Commarin  went  secretly  to  your  house,  when 
his  approaching  marriage  gave  him  the  right  to  present 
himself  openly  at  all  hours.  I  still  wonder,  how,  on  such  a 
visit,  he  could  get  his  clothes  in  the  condition  in  which  we 
found  them." 

"  That  is  to  say,  sir,"  replied  Claire  bitterly,  "  that  you 
doubt  my  word  !  " 

"  The  circumstances  are  such,  mademoiselle, — " 

"  You  accuse  me,  then,  of  falsehood,  sir.  Know  that, 
were  we  criminals,  we  should  not  descend  to  justifying 
ourselves ;  we  should  never  pray  nor  ask  for  pardon." 

Mademoiselle  d'Arlange's  haughty,  contemptuous  tone 
could  only  anger  the  magistrate.  How  harshly  she  treated 
him  !  And  simply  because  he  would  not  consent  to  be 


THE  LE ROUGE  CASE.  237 

her  dupe.  "  Above  all,  mademoiselle,"  he  answered  se- 
verely, "  I  am  a  magistrate  :  and  I  have  a  duty  to  perform. 
A  crime  has  been  committed.  Everything  points  to  M. 
Albert  de  Commarin  as  the  guilty  man.  I  arrest  him  ;  I 
examine  him  ;  and  I  find  overwhelming  proofs  against  him. 
You  come  and  tell  me  that  they  are  false  ;  that  is  not 
enough.  So  long  as  you  addressed  me  as  a  friend,  you 
found  me  kind  and  gentle.  Now  it  is  the  magistrate  to 
whom  you  speak  :  and  it  is  the  magistrate  who  answers, 
'  Prove  it. ' ' 

"  My  word,  sir, — " 

"  Prove  it !  " 

Mademoiselle  d'Arlange  rose  slowly,  casting  upon  the 
magistrate  a  look  full  of  astonishment  and  suspicion. 
"  Would  you,  then,  be  glad,  sir,"  she  asked,  "  to  find  Albert 
guilty  ?  Would  it  give  you  such  great  pleasure  to  have 
him  convicted  ?  Do  you  then  hate  this  prisoner,  whose 
fate  is  in  your  hands  ?  One  would  almost  think  so.  Can 
you  answer  for  your  impartiality  ?  Do  not  certain  memo- 
ries weigh  heavily  in  the  scale  ?  Are  you  sure  that  you 
are  not,  armed  with  the  law,  revenging  yourself  upon  a 
rival  ?  " 

"  This  is  too  much,"  murmured  the  magistrate,  "  this  is 
too  much  ! " 

"  Do  you  know  the  unusual,  the  dangerous  position  we 
are  in  at  this  moment  ?  One  day,  I  remember,  you  declared 
your  love  for  me.  It  appeared  to  me  sincere  and  honest ; 
it  touched  me.  I  was  obliged  to  refuse  you,  because  I 
loved  another ;  and  I  pitied  you.  Now  that  other  is  accused 
of  murder,  and  you  are  his  judge  ;  and  I  find  myself  between 
you  two,  praying  to  you  for  him.  In  undertaking  the 
investigation  you  acquired  an  opportunity  to  help  him  ;  and 
yet  you  seem  to  be  against  him." 

Every  word  Claire  uttered  fell  upon  M.  Daburon's  heart 
like  a  slap  on  his  face.  Was  it  really  she  who  was  speak 
ing  ?  Whence  came  this  sudden  boldness,  which  made  her 
choose  all  those  words  which  found  an  echo  in  his  heart  ? 
"  Mademoiselle,"  said  he,  "  your  grief  has  been  too  much 
for  you.  From  you  alone  could  I  pardon  what  you  have 
just  said.  Your  ignorance  of  things  makes  you  unjust.  If 
you  think  that  Albert's  fate  depends  upon  my  pleasure,  you 
are  mistaken.  To  convince  me  is  nothing ;  it  is  necessary 
to  convince  others.  That  I  should  believe  you  is  all  very 


23S  THE  LEROUGE  CAS£. 

natural,  I  know  you.  But  what  weight  will  others  attach 
to  your  testimony,  when  you  go  to  them  with  a  true«story— 
most  true,  I  believe,  but  yet  highly  improbable  ? " 

Tears  came  into  Claire's  eyes.  "  If  I  have  unjustly 
offended  you,  sir,"  said  she,  "  pardon  me :  misfortune  makes 
one  wicked." 

"You  cannot  offend  me,  mademoiselle,"  replied  the 
magistrate.  "  I  have  already  told  you  that  I  am  devoted 
to  your  service." 

"  Then  sir,  help  me  to  prove  the  truth  of  what  I  have 
said.  I  will  tell  you  everything." 

M.  Daburon  was  fully  convinced  that  Claire  was  seeking 
to  deceive  him ;  but  her  confidence  astonished  him.  He 
wondered  what  fable  she  was  about  to  concoct. 

"  Sir,"  began  Claire,  "  you  know  what  obstacles  have 
stood  in  the  way  of  my  marriage  with  Albert.  The  Count 
de  Commarin  would  not  accept  me  for  a  daughter-in-law, 
because  I  am  poor,  I  possess  nothing.  It  took  Albert  five 
years  to  triumph  over  his  father's  objections.  Twice  the 
count  yielded  :  twice  he  recalled  his  consent,  which  he  said 
had  been  extorted  from  him.  At  last,  about  a  month  ago, 
he  gave  his  consent  of  his  own  accord.  'But  these  hesita- 
tions, delays,  refusals,  had  deeply  hurt  my  grandmother. 
You  know  her  sensitive  nature  ;  and,  in  this  case,  I  must 
confess  she  was  right.  Though  the  wedding  day  had  been 
fixed,  the  marchioness  declared  that  we  should  not  be 
compromised  nor  laughed  at  again  for  any  apparent  haste 
to  contract  a  marriage  so  advantageous,  that  we  had  often 
before  been  accused  of  ambition.  She  decided,  therefore, 
that,  until  the  publication  of  the  banns,  Albert  should  only 
be  admitted  into  the  house  every  other  day,  for  two  hours 
in  the  afternoon,  and  in  her  presence.  We  could  not  get 
her  to  alter  this  determination.  Such  was  the  state  of 
affairs,  when,  on  Sunday  morning,  a  note  came  to  me  from 
Albert.  He  told  me  that  pressing  business  would  prevent 
his  coming,  although  it  was  his  regular  day.  What  could 
have  happened  to  keep  him  away  ?  I  feared  some  evil. 
The  next  day  I  awaited  him  impatiently  and  distracted, 
when  his  valet  brought  Schmidt  a  note  for  me.  In  that 
letter,  sir,  Albert  entreated  me  to  grant  him  an  interview. 
It  was  necessary,  he  wrote,  that  he  should  have  a  long 
conversation  with  me,  alone,  and  without  delay.  Our  whole 
future,  he  added,  depended  upon  this  interview.  He  left 


THE  LEROUGE  CASE.  239 

me  to  fix  the  day  and  hour,  urging  me  to  confide  in  no  one. 
I  did  not  hesitate.  I  sent  him  word  to  meet  me  on  the 
Tuesday  evening,  at  the  little  garden  gate,  which  opens  into 
an  unfrequented  street.  To  inform  me  of  his  presence,  he 
was  to  knock  just  as  nine  o'clock  chimed  at  the  Invalides, 
I  knew  that  my  grandmother  had  invited  a  number  of  her 
friends  for  that  evening ;  and  I  thought  that,  by  pretexing 
a  headache,  I  might  retire  early,  and  so  be  free.  "  I  ex- 
pected, also,  that  Madame  d'Arlange  would  keep  Schmidt 
with  her.'* 

"  Excuse  me,  mademoiselle,"  interrupted  M.  Daburon, 
"  what  day  did  you  write  to  M.  Albert  ?  " 

"  On  Tuesday." 

"  Can  you  fix  the  hour  ? " 

"  I  must  have  sent  the  letter  between  two  and  three 
o'clock." 

"  Thanks,  mademoiselle.     Continue,  I  pray." 

"  All  my  anticipations,"  continued  Claire,  "  were  realised. 
I  retired  during  the  evening,  and  I  went  into  the  garden  a 
little  before  the  appointed  time.  I  had  procured  the  key 
of  the  little  door  ;  and  I  at  once  tried  it.  Unfortunately, 
I  could  not  make  it  turn,  the  lock  was  so  rusty.  I  exerted 
all  my  strength  in  vain.  I  was  in  despair,  when  nine  o'clock 
struck.  At  the  third  stroke,  Albert  knocked.  I  told  him 
of  the  accident ;  and  I  threw  him  the  key,  that  he  might 
try  and  unlock  the  door.  He  tried  but  without  success. 
I  then  begged  him  to  postpone  our  interview.  He  replied 
that  it  was  impossible,  that  what  he  had  to  say  admitted  of 
no  delay ;  that,  during  three  days  he  had  hesitated  about 
confiding  in  me,  and  had  suffered  martyrdom,  and  that  he 
could  endure  it  no  longer.  We  were  speaking,  you  must 
understand,  through  the  door.  At  last,  he  declared  that 
he  would  climb  over  the  wall.  I  begged  him  not  to  do  so, 
fearing  an  accident.  The  wall  is  very  high,  as  you  know, 
the  top  is  covered  with  pieces  of  broken  glass,  and  the 
acacia  branches  stretch  out  above  like  a  hedge.  But  he 
laughed  at  my  fears,  and  said  that,  unless  I  absolutely 
forbade  him  to  do  so,  he  was  going  to  attempt  to  scale  the 
wall.  I  dared  not  say  no  ;  and  he  risked  it.  I  was  very 
frightened,  and  trembled  like  a  leaf.  Fortunately,  he  is 
very  active,  and  got  over  without  hurting  himself.  He  had 
come,  sir,  to  tell  me  of  the  misfortune  which  had  befallen 
him.  We  first  of  all  sat  down  upon  the  little  seat  you  know 


240  THE  LEROUCE  CASE. 

of,  in  front  of  the  grove  :  then,  as  the  rain  was  falling,  we 
took  shelter  in  the  summer  house.  It  was  past  midnight 
when  Albert  left  me,  quieted  and  almost  gay.  He  went 
back  in  the  same  manner,  only  with  less  danger,  because  I 
made  him  use  the  gardener's  ladder,  which  I  laid  down 
alongside  the  wall  when  he  had  reached  the  other  side." 

This  account,  given  in  the  simplest  and  most  natural 
manner,  puzzled  M.  Daburon.  What  was  he  to  think  ? 
"  Mademoiselle,"  he  asked,  "  had  the  rain  commenced  to 
fall  when  M.  Albert  climbed  over  the  wall  ?  " 

"  No,  sir,  the  first  drops  fell  when  we  were  on  the  seat. 
I  recollect  it  very  well,  because  he  opened  his  umbrella, 
and  I  thought  of  Paul  and  Virginia." 

"  Excuse  me  a  minute,  mademoiselle,"  said  the  magis- 
trate. 

He  sat  down  at  his  desk,  and  rapidly  wrote  two  letters. 
In  the  first,  he  gave  orders  for  Albert  to  be  brought  at 
once  to  his  office  in  the  Palais  de  Justice.  In  the  second, 
he  directed  a  detective  to  go  immediately  to  the  Faubourg 
St.  Germain  to  the  d'Arlange  house,  and  examine  the  wall 
at  the  bottom  of  the  garden,  and  make  a  note  of  any 
marks  of  its  having  been  scaled,  if  any  such  existed.  He 
explained  that  the  wall  had  been  climbed  twice,  both  be- 
fore and  during  the  rain ;  consequently  the  marks  of  the 
going  and  returning  would  be  different  from  each  other. 
He  enjoined  upon  the  detective  to  proceed  with  the  ut- 
most caution,  and  to  invent  a  plausible  pretext  which 
would  explain  his  investigations. 

Having  finished  writing,  the  magistrate  rang  for  his  ser- 
vant, who  soon  appeared.  "  Here,"  said  he,  "  are  two 
letters,  which  you  must  take  to  my  clerk,  Constant.  Tell 
him  to  read  them,  and  to  have  the  orders  they  contain 
executed  at  once, — at  onc%,  you  understand.  Run,  take  a 
cab,  and  be  quick !  Ah !  one  word.  If  Constant  is  not 
in  my  office,  have  him  sought  for ;  he  will  not  be  far  off,  as 
he  is  waiting  for  me.  Go  quickly  ! " 

M.  Daburon  then  turned  and  said  to  Claire.  "  Have 
you  kept  the  letter,  mademoiselle,  in  which  M.  Albert 
asked  for  this  interview  ? " 

"  Yes.  sir,  I  even  think  I  have  it  with  me."  She  arose, 
felt  in  her  pocket,  and  drew  out  a  much  crumpled  piece  of 
paper.  "  Here  it  is  ! " 

The  investigating  magistrate  took  it.    A  suspicion  crossed 


THE  f.E ROGUE  CASE.  241 

his  mind.  This  compromising  letter  happened  to  be  ver} 
conveniently  in  Claire's  pocket ;  and  yet  young  girls  do 
not  usually  carry  about  with  them  requests  for  secret  inter- 
views. At  a  glance,  he  read  the  ten  lines  of  the  note. 
"  No  date,"  he  murmured,  "  no  stamp,  nothing  at  all." 

Claire  did  not  hear  him  ;  she  was  racking  her  brain  to 
find  other  proofs  of  the  interview.  "  Sir,"  said  she  sud- 
denly, "  it  often  happens,  that  when  we  wish  to  be,  and 
believe  ourselves  alone,  we  are  nevertheless  observed. 
Summon,  I  beseech  you,  all  of  my  grandmother's  servants, 
and  inquire  if  any  of  them  saw  Albert  that  night." 

"  Inquire  of  your  servants  !  Can  you  dream  of  such  a 
thing,  mademoiselle  ?  " 

"What,  sir?  You  fear  that  I  shall  be  compromised. 
What  of  that,  if  he  is  only  freed  ? " 

M.  Daburon  could  not  help  admiring  her.  What  sub- 
lime devotion  in  this  young  girl,  whether  she  spoke  the 
truth  or  not !  He  could  understand  the  violence  she  had 
been  doing  to  her  feelings  during  the  past  hour,  he  who 
knew  her  character  so  well. 

"  That  is  not  all,"  she  added  ;  "  the  key  which  I  threw 
to  Albert,  he  did  not  return  it  to  me ;  he  must  have  forgot- 
ten to  do  so.  If  it  is  found  in  his  possession,  it  will  well 
prove  that  he  was  in  the  garden." 

"  I  will  give  orders  respecting  it,  mademoiselle." 

"  There  is  still  another  thing,"  continued  Claire  ,  "  while 
I  am  here,  send  some  one  to  examine  the  wall." 

She  seemed  to  think  of  everything. 

"That  is  already  done,  mademoiselle,"  replied  M. 
Daburon.  "  I  will  not  hide  from  you  that  one  of  the  let- 
ters which  I  have  just  sent  off  ordered  an  examination  of 
your  grandmother's  wall,  a  secret  examination,  though,  be 
assured." 

Claire  rose  joyfully,  and  for  the  second  time  held  out 
her  hand  to  the  magistrate.  "  Oh,  thanks  !  "  she  said,  "  a 
thousand  thanks!  Now  I  can  well  see  that  you  are  with 
me.  But  I  have  still  another  idea :  Albert  ought  to  have 
the  note  I  wrote  on  Tuesday." 

"  No,  mademoiselle,  he  burnt  it." 

Claire  drew  back.    She  imagined  she  felt  a  touch  of  irony 

in  the  magistrate's  reply.     There  was  none,  however.     M. 

Daburon  remembered  the  letter  thrown  into  the  fire  by 

Albert  on   the  Tuesday  afternoon.     It  could   only  have 

16 


242  Till-:  LEROUGE  CASE. 

been  the  one  Claire  had  sent  him.  It  was  to  her,  then, 
that  the  words,  "She  cannot  resist  me,"  applied.  He  un 
derstood,  now,  the  action  and  the  remark. 

"  Can  you  understand,  mademoiselle,"  he  next  asked, 
"  how  M.  de  Commarin  could  lead  justice  astray,  and  ex- 
pose me  to  committing  a  most  deplorable  error,  when  it 
would  have  been  so  easy  to  have  told  me  all  this  ? " 

"It  seems  to  me,  sir,  that  an  honourable  man  cannot 
confess  that  he  has  obtained  a  secret  interview  from  a 
lady,  until  he  has  full  permission  from  her  to  do  so.  He 
ought  to  risk  his  life  sooner  than  the  honour  of  her 
who  has  trusted  in  him ;  but  be  assured  Albert  relied  on 
me." 

There  was  nothing  to  reply  to  this  ;  and  the  sentiments 
expressed  by  Mademoiselle  d'Arlange  gave  a  meaning  to 
one  of  Albert's  replies  in  the  examination. 

"This  is  not  all  yet,  mademoiselle,"  continued  the  mag- 
istrate ;  "  all  that  you  have  told  me  here,  you  must  repeat 
in  my  office,  at  the  Palais  de  Justice.  My  clerk  will  take 
down  your  testimony,  and  you  must  sign  it.  This  pro- 
ceeding will  be  painful  to  you ;  but  it  is  a  necessary 
formality'." 

"  Ah,  sir,  I  will  do  so  with  pleasure.  What  can  I  refuse, 
when  I  know  that  he  is  in  prison?  I  was  determined  to 
do  everything.  If  he  had  been  tried  at  the  assizes,  I 
would  have  gone  there.  Yes,  I  would  have  presented  my- 
self, and  there  before  all  I  would  have  told  the  truth. 
Doubtless,"  she  added  sadly,  "  I  should  have  been  greatly 
compromised.  I  should  have  been  looked  upon  as  a  hero- 
ine of  romance ;  but  what  matters  public  opinion,  the 
blame  or  approval  of  the  world,  since  I  am  sure  of  his 
love  ? " 

She  rose  from  her  seat,  readjusting  her  cloak  and  the 
strings  of  her  bonnet.  "  Is  it  necessary,"  she  asked  "  that 
I  should  await  the  return  of  the  police  agents  who  are  ex- 
amining the  wall  ? " 

"  It  is  needless,  mademoiselle." 

"  Then,"  she  continued  in  a  sweet  voice,  "  I  can  only 
beseech  you,"  she  clasped  her  hands,  "  conjure  you,"  her 
eyes  implored,  "  to  let  Albert  out  of  prison." 

"  He  shall  be  liberated  as  soon  as  possible  ;  I  give  you 
my  word." 

"  Oh,   to-day,   dear  M.  Daburon,  to-day,  I  beg  of  you, 


THE  LE ROUGE  CASE.  243 

now,  at  once !  Since  he  is  innocent,  be  kind,  for  you  are 
our  friend.  Do  you  wish  me  to  go  down  on  my  knees  ?  " 

The  magistrate  had  only  just  time  to  extend  his  arms, 
and  prevent  her.  He  was  choking  with  emotion,  the  un- 
happy man !  Ah !  how  much  he  envied  the  prisoner's 
lot! 

"That  which  you  ask  of  me  is  impossible,  mademoi- 
selle," said  he  in  an  almost  inaudible  voice,  "  impractica- 
ble, upon  my  honour.  Ah  !  if  it  depended  upon  me  alone, 
I  could  not,  even  were  he  guilty,  see  you  weep,  and  resist.' 

Madamemoiselle  d'Arlange,  hitherto  so  firm,  could  no 
longer  restrain  her  sobs.  "  Miserable  girl  that  I  am  !  " 
she  cried,  "  he  is  suffering,  he  is  in  prison  ;  I  am  free,  and 
yet  I  can  do  nothing  for  him  !  Great  heaven  !  inspire  me 
with  accents  to  touch  the  hearts  of  men  !  At  whose  feet 
must  I  cast  myself  to  obtain  his  pardon  ? "  She  suddenly 
stopped,  surprised  at  having  uttered  such  a  word.  "  Par- 
don !  "  she  repeated  fiercely  ;  "  he  has  no  need  of  pardon. 
Why  am  I  only  a  woman  ?  Can  I  not  find  one  man 
who  will  help  me  ?  Yes,"  she  said  after  a  moment's  reflec- 
tion, "  there  is  one  man  who  owes  himself  to  Albert ;  since 
he  it  was  who  put  him  in  this  position, — the  Count  de 
Commarin.  He  is  his  father,  and  yet  he  has  abandoned 
him.  Ah,  well !  I  will  remind  him  that  he  still  has  a  son." 

The  magistrate  rose  to  see  her  to  the  door  ;  but  she  had 
already  disappeared,  taking  the  kind-hearted  Schmidt  with 
her. 

M.  Daburon,  more  dead  than  alive,  sank  back  again  in 
his  chair.  His  eyes  filled  with  tears.  "And  that  is  what 
she  is  !  "  he  murmured.  "  Ah  !  I  made  no  vulgar  choice. 
I  had  divined  and  understood  all  her  good  qualities." 

He  had  never  loved  her  so  much ;  and  he  felt  that  he 
would  never  be  consoled  for  not  having  won  her  love  in  re- 
turn. But,  in  the  midst  of  his  meditations,  a  sudden  thought 
passed  like  a  flash  across  his  brain.  Had  Claire  spoken 
the  truth?  Had  she  not  been  playing  a  part  previously 
prepared  ?  No,  most  decidedly  no  !  But  she  might  have 
been  herself  deceived,  might  have  been  the  dupe  of  some 
skillful  trick.  In  that  case  old  Tabaret's  prediction  was 
now  realised.  Tabaret  had  said  :  "  Look  out  for  an  in- 
disputable alibi."  How  could  he  show  the  falsity  of  this 
one,  planned  in  advance,  affirmed  by  Claire,  who  was  her- 
self deceived  ?  How  could  he  expose  a  plan,  so  well  laid 


244  THE  LE ROUGE  CASE. 

that  the  prisoner  had  been  able  without  danger  to  await 
certain  results,  with  his  arms  folded,  and  without  himself 
moving  in  the  matter  ?  And  yet,  if  Claire's  story  were 
true,  and  Albert  innocent  !  The  magistrate  struggled  in 
midst  of  inextricable  difficulties,  without  a  plan,  without 
an  idea. 

He  arose.      "  Oh  !  "  he  said  in  a  loud  voice,  as  though 
encouraging  himself,  "  at  the  Palais,  all  will  be  unravelled." 


XVI. 

M.  DABURON  had  been  surprised  at  Claire's  visit.  M.  de 
Commarin  was  still  more  so,  when  his  valet  whispered  to 
him  that  Mademoiselle  d'Arlange  desired  a  moment's  con- 
versation with  him.  M.  Daburon  had  broken  a  handsome 
card-plate ;  M.  de  Commarin,  who  was  at  breakfast, 
dropped  his  knife  on  his  plate. 

Like  the  magistrate  he  exclaimed,  "  Claire  !  " 

He  hesitated  to  receive  her,  fearing  a  painful  and  disa- 
greeable scene.  She  could  only  have,  as  he  knew,  a  very 
slight  affection  for  him,  who  had  for  so  long  repulsed  her 
with  such  obstinacy.  What  could  she  want  with  him  ? 
To  inquire  about  Albert,  of  course.  And  what  could  he 
reply  ?  She  would  probably  have  some  nervous  attack  or 
other ;  and  he  would  be  thoroughly  upset.  However,  he 
thought  of  how  much  she  must  have  suffered ;  and  he 
pitied  her. 

He  felt,  that  it  would  be  cruel,  as  well  as  unworthy  of 
him,  to  keep  away  from  her  who  was  to  have  been  his 
daughter-in-law,  the  Viscountess  de  Commarin.  He  sent 
a  message,  asking  her  to  wait  a  few  minutes  in  one  of  the 
little  drawing-rooms  on  the  ground  floor.  He  did  not  keep 
her  waiting  long,  his  appetite  having  been  destroyed  by 
the  mere  announcement  of  her  visit.  He  was  fully  pre- 
pared for  anything  disagreeable. 

As  soon  as  he  appeared,  Claire  saluted  him  with  one  of 
those  graceful,  yet  highly  dignified  bows,  which  distin- 
guished the  Marchioness  d'Arlange.  "  Sir — ,"  she  began. 

"  You  come,  do  you  not,  my  poor  child,  to  obtain  news 
of  the  unhappy  boy  ? ''  asked  M.  de  Commarin.  He  inter- 
rupted Claire,  and  went  straight  to  the  point,  in  order  to 
get  the  disagreeable  business  moie  quickly  over. 


THE  LE ROUGE  CASE.  245 

"  No  sir,"  replied  the  young  girl  ,  "  I  come,  on  the  con- 
trary, to  bring  you  news.  Albert  is  innocent." 

The  count  looked  at  her  most  attentively,  persuaded 
that  grief  had  affected  her  reason  ;  but  in  that  case  her 
madness  was  very  quiet. 

"  I  never  doubted  it,"  continued  Claire  ;  "  but  now  I  have 
the  most  positive  proof." 

"  Are  you  quite  sure  of  what  you  are  saying  ?  "  inquired 
the  count,  whose  eyes  betrayed  his  doubt. 

Mademoiselle  d'Arlange  understood  his  thoughts  ;  her 
interview  with  M.  Daburon  had  given  her  experience.  "  I 
state  nothing  which  is  not  of  the  utmost  accuracy,"  she  re- 
plied, "  and  easily  proved.  I  have  just  come  from  M.  Da- 
buron, the  investigating  magistrate,  who  is  one  of  my 
grandmother's  friends ;  and,  after  what  I  told  him,  he  is 
convinced  that  Albert  is  innocent." 

"  He  told  you  that,  Claire  !  "  exclaimed  the  count.  "  My 
child,  are  you  sure,  are  you  not  mistaken  ?  " 

"  No,  sir.  I  told  him  something,  of  which  every  one 
was  ignorant,  and  of  which  Albert,  who  is  a  gentleman, 
could  not  speak.  I  told  him  that  Albert  passed  with  me, 
in  my  grandmother's  garden,  all  that  evening  on  which  the 
crime  was  committed.  He  had  asked  to  see  me — " 

"  But  your  word  will  not  be  sufficient." 

"  There  are  proofs,  and  justice  has  them  by  this  time." 

"  Heavens  !  Is  it  really  possible  ?  "  cried  the  count,  who 
was  beside  himself. 

"  Ah.  sir ! "  said  Mademoiselle  d'Arlange  bitterly, 
"  you  are  like  the  magistrate  :  you  believed  in  the  impos> 
sible.  You  are  his  father,  and  you  suspected  him  ! 
You  do  not  know  him,  then.  You  were  abandoning  him, 
without  trying  to  defend  him.  Ah,  I  did  not  hesitate  one 
moment !  " 

One  is  easily  induced  to  believe  true  that  which  one  is 
anxiously  longing  for.  M.  de  Commarin  was  not  difficult 
to  convince.  Without  thinking,  without  discussion,  he 
put  faith  in  Claire's  assertions.  He  shared  her  convic- 
tions, without  asking  himself  whether  it  were  wise  or  pru- 
dent to  do  so.  Yes,  he  had  been  overcome  by  the  magis- 
trate's certitude,  he  had  told  himself  that  what  was  most 
unlikely  was  true  ;  and  he  had  bowed  his  head.  One  word 
from  a  young  girl  had  upset  this  conviction.  Albert  inno- 
cent !  The  thought  descended  upon  his  heart  like  heav- 


246  THE  LEROUGE  CASE. 

enly  dew.  Claire  appeared  to  him  like  a  bearer  of  happi- 
nc."S  and  hope.  During  the  last  three  days,  he  had  discov- 
ered how  great  was  his  affection  for  Albert.  He  had 
loved  him  tenderly  ,  for  he  had  never  been  able  to  discard 
him,  in  spite  of  his  frightful  suspicions  as  to  his  paternity 
For  three  days,  the  knowledge  of  the  crime  imputed  to  his 
unhappy  son,  the  thought  of  the  punishment  which  awaited 
him,  had  nearly  killed  the  father.  And  after  all  he  was  in- 
nocent !  No  more  shame,  no  more  scandalous  trial,  no 
more  stains  upon  the  escutcheon ,  the  name  of  Commaria 
would  not  be  heard  at  the  assizes. 

"  But,  then,  mademoiselle,"  asked  the  count,  "  are  they 
going  to  release  him  ?  " 

"  Alas !  sir,  I  demanded  that  they  should  at  once  set 
him  at  liberty.  It  is  just,  is  it  not,  since  he  is  not  guilty  ? 
But  the  magistrate  replied  that  it  was  not  possible ;  that 
he  was  not  the  master ;  that  Albert's  fate  depended  on 
many  others.  It  was  then  that  I  resolved  to  come  to  you 
for  aid." 

"  Can  I  then  do  something  ? " 

"  I  at  least  hope  so.  I  am  only  a  poor  girl,  very  igno- 
rant ;  and  I  know  no  one  in  the  world.  I  do  not  know 
what  can  be  done  to  get  him  released  from  prison.  There 
ought,  however,  to  be  some  means  for  obtaining  justice. 
Will  you  not  try  all  that  can  be  done,  sir,  you,  who  are  his 
father  ? " 

"  Yes,"  replied  M.  cle  Commarin  quickly,  "  yes,  and 
without  losing  a  minute." 

Since  Albert's  arrest,  the  count  had  been  plunged  in  a 
dull  stupor.  In  his  profound  grief,  seeing  only  ruin  and 
disaster  about  him,  he  had  done  nothing  to  shake  off  this 
mental  paralysis.  Ordinarily  very  active,  he  now  sat  all 
day  long  without  moving.  He  seemed  to  enjoy  a  condi- 
tion which  prevented  his  feeling  the  immensity  of  his  mis- 
fortune. Claire's  voice  sounded  in  his  ear  like  the  resur- 
rection trumpet.  The  frightful  darkness  was  dispelled  ; 
he  saw  a  glimmering  in  the  horizon;  he  recovered  the 
energy  of  his  youth.  "  Let  us  go,"  he  said. 

Suddenly  the  radiance  in  his  face  changed  to  sadness, 
mixed  with  anger. 

"  But  where,"  he  asked.  "  At  what  door  shall  we  knock 
with  any  hope  of  success  ?  In  the  olden  times,  I  would 
have  sought  the  king.  But  to-day !  Even  the  emperor 


THE  LE ROUGE  CASE.  247 

himself  cannot  interfere  with  the  law.  He  will  tell  me  to 
await  the  decision  of  the  tribunals,  that  he  can  do  nothing. 
Wait !  And  Albert  is  counting  the  minutes  in  mortal 
agony!  We  shall  certainly  have  justice  ;  but  to  obtain  it 
promptly  is  an  art  taught  in  schools  that  I  have  not  fre- 
quented." 

"  Let  us  try,  at  least,  sir,"  persisted  Claire.  "  Let  us 
seek  out  judges,  generals,  ministers,  any  one.  Only  lead 
me  to  them.  I  will  speak ;  and  you  shall  see  if  we  do  not 
succeed." 

The  count  took  Claire's  little  hands  between  his  own, 
and  held  them  a  moment  pressing  them  with  paternal 
tenderness.  "  Brave  girl !  "  he  cried,  "  you  are  a  noble, 
courageous  woman,  Claire !  Good  blood  never  fails.  I 
did  not  know  you.  Yes,  you  shall  be  my  daughter ;  and 
you  shall  be  happy  together,  Albert  and  you.  But  we  must 
not  rush  about  everywhere,  like  wild  geese.  We  need 
some  one  to  tell  us  whom  we  should  address, — some  guide, 
lawyer,-  barrister.  Ah  !  "  he  cried,  "  I  have  it, — Noel !  " 

Claire  raised  her  eyes  to  the  count's  in  surprise. 

"  He  is  my  son,"  replied  M.  de  Commarin,  evidently 
embarrassed,  "  my  other  son,  Albert's  brother.  The  best 
and  worthiest  of  men,"  he  added,  repeating  quite  appro- 
priately a  phrase  already  uttered  by  M.  Daburon.  "  He  is 
a  barrister ;  he  knows  all  about  the  Palais ;  he  will  tell  us 
what  to  do." 

Noel's  name,  thus  thrown  into  the  midst  of  this  conver- 
sation so  full  of  hope,  oppressed  Claire's  heart.  The  count 
perceived  her  affright.  "  Do  not  feel  anxious,  clear  child," 
he  said.  Noel  is  good ;  and  I  will  tell  you  more,  he  loves 
Albert.  Do  not  shake  your  head  so ;  Noel  told  me  him- 
self, on  this  very  spot,  that  he  did  not  believe  Albert  guilty. 
He  declared  that  he  intended  doing  everything  to  dispel 
the  fatal  mistake,  and  that  he  would  be  his  barrister." 

These  assertions  did  not  seem  to  reassure  the  young 
girl.  She  thought  to  herself,  "  What  then  has  this  Noel 
done  for  Albert  ?  "  But  she  made  no  remark. 

u  I  will  send  for  him,"  continued  M.  de  Commarin  ;  "he 
is  now  with  Albert's  mother,  who  brought  him  up,  and  who 
is  now  on  her  deathbed." 

"Albert's  mother!" 

"  Yes,  my  child.     Albert  will  explain  to  you  what  may 


24S  7777i  I.EROUGE  CASE. 

perhaps  seem  to  you  an  enigma.  Now  time  presses.  But 
L  think—" 

He  stopped  suddenly.  He  thought,  that,  instead  of 
sending  for  Noel  at  Madame  Gerdy's,  he  might  go  there 
himself.  He  would  thus  see  Valerie  !  and  he  had  longed 
to  see  her  again  so  much  !  It  was  one  of  those  actions 
which  the  heart  urges,  but  which  one  does  not  dare  risk, 
because  a  thousand  subtle  reasons  and  interests  are  against 
it.  One  wishes,  desires,  and  even  longs  for  it ;  and  yet  one 
struggles,  combats,  and  resists.  But,  if  an  opportunity 
occurs,  one  is  only  too  happy  to  seize  it ;  then  one  has  an 
excuse  with  which  to  silence  one's  conscience. 

In  thus  yielding  to  the  impulse  of  one's  feelings,  one  can 
say  :  "  It  was  not  I  who  willed  it,  it  was  fate." 

"  It  will  be  quicker,  perhaps,"  observed  the  count,  "to 
go  to  Noel.'' 

"  Let  us  start  then,  sir." 

"  I  hardly  know  though,  my  child,"  said  the  old  gentle- 
man, hesitating,  "  whether  I  may,  whether  I  ought  to  take 
you  with  me.  Propriety — " 

"Ah,  sir,  propriety  has  nothing  to  do  with  it!"  replied 
Claire  impetuously.  "  With  you,  and  for  his  sake,  I  can 
go  anywhere.  Is  it  not  indispensable  that  I  should  give 
some  explanations  ?  Only  send  word  to  my  grandmother 
by  Schmidt,  who  will  come  back  here  and  await  my  return. 
I  am  ready,  sir." 

"  Very  well,  then,"  said  the  count. 

Then,  ringing  the  bell  violently,  he  called  to  the  servant : 
"  My  carriage." 

In  descending  the  steps,  he  insisted  upon  Claire's  taking 
his  arm.  The  gallant  and  elegant  politeness  of  the  friend 
of  .the  Count  d'Artois  reappeared. 

"  You  have  taken  twenty  years  from  my  age,"  he  said  ; 
"  it  is  but  right  that  I  should  devote  to  you  the  youth  you 
have  restored  to  me." 

As  soon  as  Claire  had  entered  the  carriage,  he  said  to 
the  footman  :  "  Rue  St.  Lazare,  quick  ! " 

Whenever  the  count  said  "  quick,"  on  entering  his  car- 
riage, the  pedestrians  had  to  get  out  of  the  way.  But  the 
coachman  was  a  skillful  driver,  and  arrived  without  acci- 
dent. Aided  by  the  concierge's  directions,  the  count  and 
the  young  girl  went  towards  Madame  Gerdy's  apartments. 


THE  LE ROUGE  CASE.  249 

The  count  mounted  slowly,  holding  tightly  to  the  balus- 
trade, stopping  at  every  landing  to  recover  his  breath.  He 
was,  then,  about  to  see  her  again !  His  emotion  pressed 
his  heart  like  a  vice. 

"  M.  Noel  Gerdy  ?  "  he  asked  of  the  servant. 

The  barrister  had  just  that  moment  gone  out.  She  did 
not  know  where  he  had  gone ;  but  he  had  said  he  should 
not  be  out  more  than  half  an  hour. 

"We  will  wait  for  him,  then."  said  the  count. 

He  advanced  ;  and  the  servant  drew  back  to  let  them 
pass.  Noel  had  strictly  forbidden  her  to  admit  any  visit- 
ors ;  but  the  Count  de  Commarin  was  one  of  those  whose 
appearance  makes  servants  forget  all  their  orders.  Three 
persons  were  in  the  room  iato  which  the  servant  introduced 
the  count  and  Mademoiselle  d'Arlange.  They  were  the 
parish  priest,  the  doctor,  and  a  tall  man,  an  officer  of  the 
Legion  of  Honour,  whose  figure  and  bearing  indicated  the 
old  soldier.  They  were  conversing  near  the  fireplace,  and 
the  arrival  of  strangers  appeared  to  astonish  them  exceed- 
ingly. In  bowing,  in  response  to  M.  de  Commarin's  and 
Claire's  salutations,  they  seemed  to  inquire  their  business  : 
but  this  hesitation  was  brief,  for  the  soldier  almost  imme- 
diately offered  Mademoiselle  d'Arlange  a  chair. 

The  count  considered  that  his  presence  was  inoppor- 
tune ;  and  he  thought  that  he  was  called  upon  to  introduce 
himself,  and  explain  his  visit. 

"  You  will  excuse  me,  gentlemen,''  said  he,  "  if  I  am 
indiscreet.  I  did  not  think  of  being  so  when  I  asked  to 
wait  for  Noel,  whom  I  have  the  most  pressing  need  of 
seeing.  I  am  the  Count  de  Commarin." 

At  this  name,  the  old  soldier  let  go  the  back  of  the 
chair  which  he  was  still  holding  and  haughtily  raised  his 
head.  An  angry  light  flashed  in  his  eyes,  and  he  made  a 
threatening  gesture.  His  lips  moved,  as  if  he  were  about 
to  speak ;  but  he  restrained  himself,  and  retired,  bowing 
his  head,  to  the  window.  Neither  the  count  nor  the  two 
other  men  noticed  his  strange  behaviour ;  but  it  did  not 
escape  Claire. 

While  Mademoiselle  d'Arlange  sat  down,  rather  sur- 
prised, the  count,  much  embarrassed  at  his  position,  went 
up  to  the  priest,  and  asked  in  a  low  voice,  "  What  is,  I 
pray,  M.  1'Abbe,  Madame  Gerdy's  condition  ?  " 

The  doctor,  who  had  a  sharp  ear,  heard  the  question, 


250  THE  LEROUGE  CASE. 

and  approached  quickly.  He  was  very  pleased  to  have 
an  opportunity  to  speak  to  a  person  as  celebrated  as  the 
Count  de  Commarin,  and  to  become  acquainted  with  him. 
"  I  fear,  sir,"  he  said,  "  that  she  cannot  live  throughout 
the  day." 

The  count  pressed  his  hand  against  his  forehead,  as 
though  he  had  felt  a  sudden  pain  there.  He  hesitated  to 
inquire  further.  After  a  moment  of  chilling  silence,  he 
resolved  to  go  on.  "  Does  she  recognise  her  friends  ?  " 
he  murmured. 

"  No,  sir.  Since  last  evening,  however,  there  has  been 
a  great  change.  She  was  very  uneasy  all  last  night :  she 
had  moments  of  fierce  delirium.  About  an  hour  ago,  we 
thought  she  was  recovering  her  senses,  and  we  sent  for 
M.  T  Abbe." 

"  Very  needlessly,  though,"  put  in  the  priest,  "  and  it  is 
a  sad  misfortune.  Her  reason  is  quite  gone.  Poor 
woman  !  I  have  known  her  ten  years,  I  have  been  to  see 
her  nearly  every  week  ;  I  never  knew  a  more  worthy 
person." 

"  She  must  suffer  dreadfully,"  said  the  doctor. 

Almost  at  the  same  instantj  and  as  if  to  bear  out  the 
doctor's  words,  they  heard  stifled  cries  from  the  next  room, 
the  door  of  which  was  slightly  open. 

"  Do  you  hear?  "  exclaimed  the  count,  trembling  from 
head  to  foot. 

Claire  understood  nothing  of  this  strange  scene.  Dark 
presentiments  oppressed  her  ;  she  felt  as  though  she  were 
enveloped  in  an  atmosphere  of  evil.  She  grew  frightened, 
rose  from  her  chair,  and  drew  near  the  count. 

"  She  is,  I  presume,  in  there  ? "  asked  M.  de  Com- 
marin. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  harshly  answered  the  old  soldier,  who  had 
also  drawn  near. 

At  any  other  time,  the  count  would  have  noticed  the 
soldier's  tone,  and  have  resented  it.  Now,  he  did  not 
even  raise  his  eyes.  He  remained  insensible  to  everything. 
Was  she  not  there,  close  to  him  ?  His  thoughts  were  in 
the  past ;  it  seemed  to  him  but  yesterday  that  he  had 
quitted  her  for  the  last  time.  "  I  should  very  much  like 
to  see  her,"  he  said  timidly. 

"  That  is  impossible,"  replied  the  old  soldier. 

"  Why  ? "  stammered  the  count. 


THE  LEROUGE  CASE.  251 

"  At  least,  M.  de  Commarin,"  replied  the  soldier,  "  let 
her  die  in  peace." 

The  count  started,  as  if  he  had  been  struck.  His  eyes 
encountered  the  officer's ;  he  lowered  them  like  a  criminal 
before  his  judge. 

"  Nothing  need  prevent  the  count's  entering  Madame 
Gerdy's  room,"  put  in  the  doctor,  who  purposely  saw  noth- 
ing of  all  this.  "  She  would  probably  not  notice  his  pres- 
ence ;  and  if — " 

"  Oh,  she  would  perceive  nothing !  "  said  the  priest.  "  I 
have  just  spoken  to  her,  taken  her  hand,  she  remained 
quite  insensible." 

The  old  soldier  reflected  deeply.  "  Enter,"  said  he  at 
last  to  the  count :  "  perhaps  it  is  God's  will." 

The  count  tottered  so  that  the  doctor  offered  to  assist 
him.  He  gently  motioned  him  away.  The  doctor  and  the 
priest  entered  with  him :  Claire  and  the  old  soldier  re- 
mained at  the  threshold  of  the  door,  facing  the  bed.  The 
count  took  three  or  four  steps,  and  was  obliged  to  stop. 
He  wished  to,  but  could  not  go  further.  Could  this  dying 
woman  really  be  Valerie  ?  He  taxed  his  memory  severely  ; 
nothing  in  those  withered  features,  nothing  in  that  dis- 
torted face,  recalled  the  beautiful,  the  adored  Valerie  of 
his  youth.  He  did  not  recognise  her. 

But  she  knew  him,  or  rather  divined  his  presence. 
With  supernatural  strength,  she  raised  herself,  exposing 
her  shoulders  and  emaciated  arms  ;  then  pushing  away 
the  ice  from  her  forehead,  and  throwing  back  her  still 
plentiful  hair,  bathed  with  water  and  perspiration,  she 
cried,  "  Guy  !  Guy  !  " 

The  count  trembled  all  over.  He  did  not  perceive  that 
which  immediately  struck  all  the  other  persons  present — 
the  transformation  in  the  sick  woman.  Her  contracted 
features  relaxed,  a  "celestial  joy  spread  over  her  face,  and 
her  eyes,  sunken  by  disease,  assumed  an  expression  of 
infinite  tenderness. 

"  Guy,"  said  she  in  a  voice  heartrending  by  its  sweet- 
ness, "  you  have  come  at  last !  How  long,  O  my  God  ! 
1  have  waited  for  you  !  You  cannot  think  what  I  have 
suffered  by  your  absence.  I  should  have  died  of  grief,  had 
it  not  been  for  the  hope  of  seeing  you  again.  Who  kept 
you  from  me  ?  Your  parents  again  ?  How  cruel  of  them  ! 
Did  you  not  tell  them  that  no  one  could  love  you  here 


LEKOUGE  CASE. 

below  as  I  do  ?  No,  that  is  not  it ;  I  remember.  You 
were  angry  when  you  left  me.  Your  friends  wished  to 
separate  us  ;  they  said  that  I  was  deceiving  you  with 
another.  Who  have  I  injured  that  I  should  have  so  many 
enemies  ?  They  envied  my  happiness ;  and  we  were  so 
happy !  But  you  did  not  believe  the  wicked  calumny,  you 
scorned  it,  for  you  are  here?" 

The  nun,  who  had  risen  on  seeing  so  many  persons 
enter  the  sick  room,  opened  her  eyes  with  astonish- 
ment. 

"  I  deceive  you  ?  "  continued  the  dying  woman ;  "  only 
a  madman  would  believe  it.  Am  I  not  yours,  your  very 
own,  heart  and  soul  ?  To  me  you  are  everything  :  and 
there  is  nothing  I  could  expect  or  hope  -for  from  another 
which  you  have  not  already  given  me.  Was  I  not  yours, 
alone,  from  the  very  first  ?  I  never  hesitated  to  give  myself 
entirely  to  you ;  I  felt  that  I  was  born  for  you,  Guy,  do  you 
remember  ?  I  was  working  for  a  lace  maker,  and  was 
barely  earning  a  living.  You  told  me  you  were  a  poor 
student ;  I  thought  you  were  depriving  yourself  for  me. 
You  insisted  on  having  our  little  apartment  on  the  Quai 
Saint-Michel  done  up.  It  was  lovely,  with  the  new  paper 
all  covered  with  flowers,  which  we  hung  ourselves.  How 
delightful  it  was !  From  the  window,  we  could  see  the 
great  trees  of  the  Tuileries  gardens  ;  and  by  leaning  out  a 
little  we  could  see  the  sun  set  through  the  arches  of 
the  bridges.  Oh,  those  happy  days  !  The  first  time  that 
we  went  into  the  country  together,  one  Sunday,  you  brought 
me  a  more  beautiful  dress  than  I  had  ever  dreamed  of,  and 
such  darling  little  boots,  that  it  was  a  shame  to  walk  out 
in  them  !  But  you  had  deceived  me  !  You  were  not  a 
poor  student.  One  day,  when  taking  my  work  home,  I 
met  you  in  an  elegant  carriage,  with  tall  footmen,  dressed 
in  liveries  covered  with  gold  lace,  behind.  I  could  not 
believe  my  eyes.  That  evening  you  told  me  the  truth, 
that  you  were  a  nobleman  and  immensely  rich.  O  my 
darling,  why  did  you  tell  me  ?  " 

Had  she  her  reason,  or  was  this  a  mere  delirium  ? 
Great  tears  rolled  down  the  Count  de  Commarin's  wrink- 
led face,  and  the  doctor  and  the  priest  were  touched  by 
the  sad  spectacle  of  an  old  man  weeping  like  a  child. 
Only  the  previous  evening,  the  count  had  thought  his  heart 
dead  ;  and  now  this  penetrating  voice  was  sufficient  to  recall 


THE  LEROUGE  CASE.  253 

the  fresh  and  powerful  feelings  of  his  youth.     Yet,   how 
many  years  had  passed  away  since  then ! 

"After  that,"  continued  Madame  Gerdy,  "  we  left  the 
Quai  Saint-Michel.  You  wished  it ;  and  I  obeyed,  in  spite 
of  my  apprehensions.  You  told  me,  that,  to  please  you,  I 
ought  to  look  like  a  great  lady.  You  provided  teachers  for 
me,  for  I  was  so  ignorant  that  I  scarcely  knew  how  to  sign 
my  name.  Do  you  remember  the  queer  spelling  in  my  first 
letter?  Ah,  Guy,  if  you  had  really  only  been  a  poor  stu- 
dent !  When  I  knew  that  you  were  so  rich,  I  lost  my  sim- 
plicity, my  thoughtlessness,  my  gaiety.  I  feared  that  you 
would  think  me  covetous,  that  would  imagine  that  your 
fortune  influenced  my  love.  Men  who,  like  you,  have  mill- 
ions, must  be  unhappy !  They  must  be  always  doubting  and 
full  of  suspicions  ,  they  can  never  be  sure  whether  it  is 
themselves  or  their  gold  which  is  loved,  and  this  awful 
doubt  makes  them  mistrustful,  jealous,  and  cruel.  Oh  my 
dearest,  why  did  we  leave  our  dear  little  room  ?  There, 
we  were  happy.  Why  did  you  not  leave  me  always  where 
you  first  found  me  ?  Did  you  not  know  that  the  s'ght  of 
happiness  irritates  mankind  ?  If  we  had  been  wise,  we 
would  have  hid  ours  like  a  crime.  You  thought  to  raise 
me,  but  you  only  sunk  me  lower.  You  were  proud  of  our 
love ;  you  published  it  abroad.  Vainly  I  asked  you  in 
mercy  to  leave  me  in  obscurity,  and  unknown.  Soon  the 
whole  town  knew  that  I  was  your  mistress.  Every  one 
was  talking  of  the  money  you  spent  on  me.  How  I  blushed 
at  the  flaunting  luxury  you  thrust  upon  me  !  You  were 
satisfied,  because  my  beauty  became  celebrated ;  1  wept, 
because  my  shame  became  so  too.  People  talked  about 
me,  as  those  women  who  make  their  lovers  commit  the 
greatest  follies.  Was  not  my  name  in  the  papers  ?  And  it 
was  through  the  same  papers  that  I  heard  of  your  approach- 
ing marriage.  Unhappy  woman  !  I  should  have  fled  from 
you,  but  I  had  not  the  courage.  I  resigned  myself,  without 
an  effort,  to  the  most  humiliating,  the  most  shameful  of  posi- 
tions. You  were  married  ;  and  I  remained  your  mistress. 
Oh,  what  anguish  I  suffered  during  that  terrible  evening. 
I  was  alone  in  my  own  home,  in  that  room  so  associated 
with  you  ;  and  you  were  marrying  another  !  I  said  to  my- 
self, '  At  this  moment,  a  pure,  noble  young  girl  is  giving 
herself  to  him.'  I  said  again,  '  What  oaths  is  that  mouth, 
which  has  so  often  pressed  my  lips,  now  taking  ? '  Often 


254  THK  t.KKOCGE   CASE. 

since  that  dreadful  misfortune,  I  have  asked  heaven  what 
crime  I  had  committed  that  I  should  be  so  terribly  pun- 
ished  ?  This  was  the  crime  :  I  remained  your  mistress, 
and  your  wife  died.  I  only  saw  her  once,  and  then 
scarcely  for  a.  minute,  but  she  looked  at  you,  and  I  knew 
that  she  loved  you  as  only  I  could.  Ah,  Guy,  it  was  our 
love  that  killed  her !  " 

She  stopped  exhausted,  but  none  of  the  bystanders 
moved.  They  listened  breathlessly,  and  waited  with  fever- 
ish emotion  for  her  to  resume.  Mademoiselle  d'Arlange 
had  not  strength  to  remain  standing ;  she  had  fallen  upon 
her  knees,  and  was  pressing  her  handkerchief  to  her  mouth 
to  keep  back  her  sobs.  Was  not  this  woman  Albert's 
mother  ?  The  worthy  nun  was  alone  unmoved ;  she  had 
seen,  she  said  to  herself,  many  such  deliriums  before.  She 
understood  absolutely  nothing  of  what  was  passing.  "  These 
people  are  very  foolish,"  she  muttered,  "to  pay  so  much 
attention  to  the  ramblings  of  a  person  out  of  her  mind."  She 
thought  she  had  more  sense  than  the  others,  so,  approach- 
ing the  bed,  she  began  to  cover  up  the  sick  woman.  "  Come, 
maclame,"  said  shet  "  cover  yourself,  or  you  will  catch 
cold." 

"  Sister !  "  remonstrated  the  doctor  and  priest  at  the 
same  moment. 

"  For  God's  sake  !  "  exclaimed  the  soldier,  "  let  her 
speak." 

"  Who,"  continued  the  sick  woman,  unconscious  of  all 
that  was  passing  about  her,  "  who  told  you  I  was  deceiv- 
ing you  ?  Oh,  the  wretches  !  They  set  spies  upon  me  ; 
they  discovered  that  an  officer  came  frequently  to  see  me. 
But  that  officer  was  my  brother,  my  dear  Louis  !  When 
he  was  eighteen  years  old,  and  being  unable  to  obtain 
work,  he  enlisted,  saying  to  my  mother,  that  there  would 
then  be  one  mouth  the  less  in  the  family.  He  was  a  good 
soldier,  and  his  officers  always  liked  him.  He  worked 
whilst  with  his  regiment ;  he  taught  himself,  and  he  quickly 
rose  in  rank.  He  was  promoted  a  lieutenant,  then  captain, 
and  finally  became  major.  Louis  always  loved  me  ;  had 
he  remained  in  Paris  1  should  not  have  fallen.  But  our 
mother  died,  and  I  was  left  all  alone  in  this  great  city- 
He  was  a  non-commissioned  officer  when  he  first  knew  that 
I  had  a  lover ;  and  he  was  so  enraged  that  I  feared  he 
would  never  forgive  me.  But  he  did  forgive  me,  saying  that 


THE  LEROL'GE  CASE.  255 

my  constancy  in  my  error  was  its  only  excuse.  Ah,  my  friend, 
he  was  more  jealous  of  your  honor  than  you  yourself  !  He 
came  to  see  me  in  secret,  because  I  placed  him  in  the  un- 
happy position  of  blushing  for  his  sister.  I  had  condemned 
myself  never  to  speak  of  him,  never  to  mention  his  name. 
Could  a  brave  soldier  confess  that  his  sister  was  the  mistress 
of  a  count  ?  That  it  might  not  be  known,  I  took  the  utmost 
precautions,  but  aks  !  only  to  make  you  doubt  me.  When 
Louis  knew  what  was  said,  he  wished  in  his  blind  rage  to 
challenge  you;  and  then  I  was  obliged  to  make  him  think 
that  he  had  no  right  to  defend  me.  What  misery  !  Ah,  I 
have  paid  dearly  for  my  years  of  stolen  happiness  !  But 
you  are  here,  and  all  is  forgotten.  For  you  do  believe  me, 
do  you  not,  Guy  ?  I  will  write  to  Louis  :  he  will  come,  he 
will  tell  you  that  I  do  not  lie,  and  you  cannot  doubt  his,  a 
soldier's  word." 

"  Yes,  on  my  honour,"  said  the  old  soldier,  "  what  my 
sister  says  is  the  truth." 

The  dying  woman  did  not  hear  him  ;  she  continued  in 
a  voice  panting  from  weariness :  "  How  your  presence 
revives  me.  I  feel  that  I  am  growing  stronger.  I  have 
nearly  been  very  ill.  I  am  afraid  I  am  not  very  pretty  to- 
day :  but  never  mind,  kiss  me !  "  She  opened  her  arms, 
and  thrust  out  her  lips  as  if  to  kiss  him.  "  But  it  is  one 
condition,  Guy,  that  you  will  leave  me  my  child  ?  Oh ! 
I  beg  of  you,  I  entreat  you  not  to  take  him  from  me  :  leave 
him  to  me.  What  is  a  mother  without  her  child  ?  You 
are  anxious  to  give  him  an  illustrious  name,  an  immense  for- 
tune. No  !  You  tell  me  that  this  sacrifice  will  be  for  his 
good.  No  !  My  child  is  mine  :  I  will  keep  him.  The  world 
has  no  honours,  no  riches,  which  can  replace  a  mother's 
love.  You  wish  to  give  me  in  exchange,  that  other  woman's 
child.  Never !  What  !  you  would  have  that  woman 
embrace  my  boy !  It  is  impossible.  Take  away  this 
strange  child  from  me  ;  he  fills  me  with  horror ;  I  want 
my  own  !  Ah,  do  not  insist,  do  not  threaten  me  with 
anger,  do  not  leave  me.  I  should  give  in,  and  then  I 
should  die.  Guy,  forget  this  fatal  project,  the  thought  of 
it  alone  is  a  crime.  Cannot  my  prayers,  my  tears,  can  noth- 
ing move  you  ?  Ah,  well,  God  will  punish  us.  All  will 
be  discovered.  The  day  will  come  when  these  children 
will  demand  a  fearful  reckoning.  Guy,  I  foresee  the 
future ;  I  see  my  son  coming  towards  me,  justly  an- 


256  THE  LEROUGE  CASE. 

gered.  What  does  he  say,  great  heaven  !  Oh,  those 
letters,  those  letters,  sweet  memories  of  our  love  !  My 
son,  he  threatens  me  !  Me  strikes  me !  Ah,  help !  A 
son  strike  his  mother.  Tell  no  one  of  it,  though.  O  my 
God,  what  torture !  Yet  he  knows  well  that  I  am  his 
mother.  He  pretends  not  to  believe  me.  Lord,  this  is 
too  much  !  Guy  !  pardon  !  oh,  my  only  friend  !  I  have 
neither  the  power  to  resist,  nor  the  courage  to  obey  you." 

At  this  moment  the  door  opening  on  to  the  landing 
opened,  and  Noel  appeared,  pale  as  usual,  but  calm  and 
composed.  The  dying  woman  saw  him,  and  the  sight 
affected  her  like  an  electric  shock.  A  terrible  shudder 
shook  her  frame ;  her  eyes  grew  inordinately  large ,  her 
hair  seemed  to  stand  on  end.  She  raised  herself  on  her 
pillows,  stretched  out  her  arm  in  the  direction  where  Noel 
stood,  and  in  a  loud  voice  exclaimed,  "  Assassin  !  " 

She  fell  back  convulsively  on  the  bed.  Some  one  has- 
tened forward :  she  was  dead.  A  deep  silence  prevailed. 
Such  is  the  majesty  of  death,  and  the  terror  which  accom 
panics  it,  that,  in  its  presence,  even  the  strongest  and  most 
sceptical  bow  their  heads.  For  a  time,  passions  and 
interests  are  forgotten.  Involuntarily  we  are  drawn 
together,  when  some  mutual  friend  breathes  his  last  in  our 
presence.  All  the  bystanders  were  deeply  moved  by  this 
painful  scene,  this  last  confession,  wrested  so  to  say  from 
the  delirium.  And  the  last  word  uttered  by  Madame 
Gerdy,  "  assassin,"  surprised  no  one.  All,  excepting  the 
nun,  knew  of  the  awful  accusation  which  had  been  made 
against  Albert.  To  him  they  applied  the  unfortunate 
mother's  malediction.  Noel  seemed  quite  broken  hearted. 
Kneeling  by  the  bedside  of  her  who  had  been  as  a  mother 
to  him,  he  took  one  of  her  hands,  and  pressed  it  close  to 
his  lips.  "  Dead  !  "  he  groaned,  "  she  is  dead." 

The  nun  and  the  priest  knelt  beside  him,  and  repeated 
in  a  low  voice  the  prayers  for  the  dead.  They  implored 
God  to  shed  his  peace  and  mercy  on  the  departed  soul. 
They  begged  for  a  little  happiness  in  heaven  for  her  who 
had  suffeied  so  much  on  earth.  Fallen  into  a  chair,  his 
head  thrown  back,  the  Count  de  Commarin  was  more  over- 
whelmed and  more  livid  than  this  dead  woman,  his  old 
love,  once  so  beautiful.  Claire  and  the  doctor  hastened  to 
assist  him.  They  undid  his  cravat,  and  took  off  his  shirt 
collar,  for  he  was  suffocating.  With  the  help  of  the  old 


7777?  LEKOUCE  CASE.  257 

soldier,  whose  red,  tearful  eyes,  told  of  suppressed  grief, 
they  moved  the  count's  chair  to  the  half-opened  window  to 
give  him  a  little  air.  Three  days  before  this  scene  would 
have  killed  him.  But  the  heart  hardens  by  misfortune,  like 
hands  by  labour. 

"  His  tears  have  saved  him,"  whispered  the  doctor  to 
Claire. 

M.  de  Commarin  gradually  recovered,  and,  as  his 
thoughts  became  clearer,  his  sufferings  returned.  Prostra- 
tion follows  great  mental  shocks.  Nature  seems  to  col- 
lect her  strength  to  sustain  the  misfortune.  We  do  not  feel 
all  its  intensity  at  once ;  it  is  only  afterwards  that  we.  real- 
ize the  extent  and  profundity  of  the  evil.  The  count's 
gaze  was  fixed  upon  the  bed  where  lay  Valerie's  body. 
There,  then,  was  all  that  remained  of  her.  The  soul,  that 
soul  so  devoted  and  so  tender,  had  flown.  What  would  he 
not  have  given  if  God  would  have  restored  that  unfortu- 
nate woman  to  life  for  a  day,  or  even  for  an  hour  ?  With 
what  transports  of  repentance  he  would  have  cast  himself 
at  her  feet,  to  implore  her  pardon,  to  tell  her  how  much  he 
detested  his  past  conduct !  How  had  he  acknowledged 
.the  inexhaustible  love  of  that  angel  ?  Upon  a  mere  sus- 
picion, without  deigning  to  inquire,  without  giving  her  a 
hearing,  he  had  treated  her  with  the  coldest  contempt. 
Why  had  he  not  seen  her  again  ?  He  would  have  spared 
himself  twenty  years  of  doubt  as  to  Albert's  birth.  In- 
stead of  an  isolated  existence,  he  would  have  led  a  happy, 
joyous  life.  Then  he  remembered  the  countess's  death. 
She  also  had  loved  him,  and  had  died  of  her  love.  He  had 
not  understood  them  ,  he  had  killed  them  both.  The  hour 
of  expiation  had  come;  and  he  could  not  say:  "Lord, 
the  punishment  is  too  great,  and  yet,  what  punishment, 
what  misfortunes,  during  the  last  five  days  ! 

"Yes,"  he  stammered,  "she  predicted  it.  Why  did  I 
not  listen  to  her  ?  " 

Madame  Gerdy's  brother  pitied  the  old  man,  so  severely 
tried.  He  held  out  his  hand.  "  M.  de  Commarin,"  he 
said,  in  a  grave,  sad  voice,  "  my  sister  forgave  you  long 
ago,  even  if  she  ever  had  any  ill  feeling  against  you.  It 
is  my  turn  to-day  ;  I  forgive  you  sincerely." 

"Thank  you,  sir,"  murmured  the  count,  "  thank  you." 
And  then  he  added  :  "  What  a  death  !  " 

"Yes,"  murmured  Claire,  "  she  breathed  her  last  in  the 


258  THE  LEROUGE  CASE. 

idea  that  her  son  was  guilty  of  a  crime.  And  we  were  not 
able  to  undeceive  her." 

"  At  least,"  cried  the  count,  "  her  son  should  be  free  to 
render  her  his  last  duties  ;  yes,  he  must  be.  Noel !  " 

The  barrister  had  approached  his  father,  and  heard 
all.  "  I  have  promised,  father,"  he  replied,  "  to  save 
him." 

For  the  first  lime,  Mademoiselle  d'Arlange  was  face  to 
face  with  Noel.  Their  eyes  met,  and  she  could  not  re- 
strain a  movement  of  repugnance,  which  the  barrister  per- 
ceived. "Albert  is  already  saved,"  she  said  proudly. 
"  What  we  ask  is,  that  prompt  justice  shall  be  done  him  ; 
that  he  shall  be  immediately  set  at  liberty.  The  magis- 
trate now  knows  the  truth." 

"  How  the  truth  ?  "  exclaimed  the  barrister. 

"  Yes ;  Albert  passed  at  my  house,  with  me,  the  evening 
the  crime  was  committed."  . 

Noel  looked  at  her  surprised  ;  so  singular  a  confession 
from  such  a  mouth,  without  explanation,  might  well  sur- 
prise him. 

She  drew  herself  up  haughtilyc  "  I  am  Mademoiselle 
Claire  d'Arlange,  sir,"  said  she. 

M.  de  Commarin  now  quickly  ran  over  all  the  incidents 
reported  by  Claire.  When  he  had  finished,  Noel  replied  : 
"  You  see,  sir,  my  position  at  this  moment,  to-mor- 
row— " 

"  To-morrow  ? "  interrupted  the  count,  "  you  said,  I 
believe,  to-morrow !  Honour  demands,  sir,  that  we  act  to- 
day, at  this  moment.  You  can  show  your  love  for  this 
poor  woman  much  better  by  delivering  her  son  than  by  pray- 
ing for  her." 

Noel  bowed  low,  "  To  hear  your  wish,  sir,  is  to  obey  it," 
he  said ;  "  I  go.  This  evening,  at  your  house,  I  shall  have 
the  honour  of  giving  you  an  account  of  my  proceedings. 
Perhaps  I  shall  be  able  to  bring  Albert  with  me." 

He  spoke,  and,  again  embracing  the  dead  woman,  went 
out.  Soon  the -count  and  Mademoiselle  d'Arlange  also  re- 
tired. The  old  soldier  went  to  the  Mairie,  to  give  notice 
of  the  death,  and  to  fulfil  the  necessary  formalities.  The 
nun  alone  remained  to  watch  the  corpse.  The  daughter 
of  St.  Vincent  felt  neither  fear  nor  embarrassment  \  she 
had  been  so  many  times  in  a  similar  position.  Her  pray- 
ers said,  she  arose  and  went  about  the  room,  arranging 


THE  LEROUGE  CASE.  2y} 

everything  as  it  should  be  in  the  presence  of  death.  She 
removed  all  traces  of  the  illness,  put  away  the  medicine 
bottles,  burnt  some  sugar  upon  the  fire  shovel,  and,  on  a 
table  covered  with  a  white  cloth  at  the  head  of  the  bed, 
placed  some  lighted  candles,  a  crucifix  with  holy  water,  and 
a  branch  of  palm. 

XVII. 


GREATLY  troubled  and  perplexed  by  Mademoiselle  d'Ar 
lange's  revelations,  M.  Daburon  was  ascending  the  stairs 
that  led  to  the  offices  of  the  investigating  magistrates, 
when  he  saw  old  Tabaret  coming  towards  him.  The  sight 
pleased  him,  and  he  at  once  called  out :  "  M.  Tabaret!  " 

But  the  old  fellow,  who  showed  signs  of  the  most  intense 
agitation,  was  scarcely,  disposed  to  stop,  or  to  lose  a  sin- 
gle minute.  ''  You  must  excuse  me,  sir,"  he  said,  bowing, 
"  but  I  am  expected  at  home." 

"  I  hope,  however — " 

"  Oh,  he  is  innocent,"  interrupted  old  Tabaret.  "  I 
have  already  some  proofs  ;  and  before  three  days — But 
you  are  going  to  see  Gevrol's  man  with  the  earrings.  He 
is  very  cunning,  Gevrol :  I  misjudged  him." 

And  without  listening  to  another  word,  he  hurried  away, 
jumping  down  three  steps  at  a  times,  at  the  risk  of  break- 
ing his  neck.  M.  Daburon,  greatly  disappointed,  also  has- 
tened on.  In  the  passage,  on  a  bench  of  rough  wood  be- 
fore his  office  door,  Albert  sat  awaiting  him,  under  the 
charge  of  a  Garde  de  Paris. 

"  You  will  be  summoned  immediately,  sir,"  said  the  mag- 
istrate to  the  prisoner,  as  he  opened  his  door. 
'  In  the  office,  Constant  was  talking  with  a  skinny  little 
man,  who  might  have  been  taken,  from  his  dress,  for  a 
well-to-do  inhabitant  of  Batignolles,  had  it  not  been  for  the 
enormous  pin  in  imitation  gold  which  shone  in  his  cravat, 
and  betrayed  the  detective. 

"  You  received  my  letters  ? "  asked  M.  Daburon  of  his 
clerk. 

"  Your  orders  have  been  executed,  sir  :  the  prisoner  is 
without,  and  here  is  M.  Martin,  who  this  moment  arrived 
from  the  neighbourhood  of  the  Invalides. 

"  That  is  well,"  said  the  magistrate  in  a  satisfied   tone. 


26o  THE  LEROUGE  C 


And,  turning  towards  the  detective,  "  Well,  M.  Martin," 
he  asked,  "  what  did  you  see  ?  " 

"  The  walls  has  been  scaled,  sir." 

"  Lately  ?  " 

"  Five  or  six  days  ago." 

"  You  are  sure  of  this  ?  " 

"  As  sure  as  I  am  that  I  see  M.  Constant  at  this  mo- 
ment mending  his  pen." 

"  The  marks  are  plain  ?  " 

"  As  plain  as  the  nose  on  my  face,  sir,  if  I  may  so  ex- 
press myself.  The  thief  —  it  was  done  by  a  thief,  I  imagine," 
continued  M.  Martin,  who  was  a  great  talker  —  "  the  thief 
entered  the  garden  before  the  rain,  and  went  away  after  it, 
as  you  had  conjectured.  This  circumstance  is  easy  to  es- 
tablish by  examining  the  marks  on  the  wall  of  the  ascent 
and  the  descent  on  the  side  towards  the  street.  These 
marks  are  several  abrasions,  evidently  made  by  feet  of 
some  one  climbing.  The  first  are  clean  ;  the  others,  mud- 
dy. The  scamp  —  he  was  a  nimble  fellow  —  in  getting  in, 
pulled  himself  up  by  the  strength  of  his  wrists  :  but  when 
going  away,  he  enjoyed  the  luxury  of  a  ladder,  which  he 
threw  down  as  soon  as  he  was  on  the  top  of  the  wall.  It 
is  to  see  where  he  placed  it,  by  holes  made  in  the  ground 
by  the  fellow's  weight  ;  and  also  by  the  mortar  which  has 
been  knocked  away  from  the  top  of  the  wall." 

"  Is  that  all  ?  "  asked  the  magistrate. 

"  Not  yet,  sir.  Three  of  the  pieces  of  glass  which  cover 
the  top  of  the  wall  have  been  removed.  Several  of  the 
acacia  branches,  which  extend  over  the  wall  have  been 
twisted  or  broken.  Adhering  to  the  thorns  of  one  of 
these  branches,  I  found  this  little  piece  of  lavender  kid, 
which  appears  to  me  to  belong  to  a  glove." 

The  magistrate  eagerly  seized  the  piece  of  kid.  It  had* 
evidently  come  from  a  glove.  "  You  took  care,  I  hope, 
M.  Martin,"  said  M.  Daburon,  "  not  to  attract  attention 
at  the  house  where  you  made  this  investigation  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  sir.  I  first  of  all  examined  the  exterior  of 
the  wall  at  my  leisure.  After  that,  leaving  my  hat  at  a 
wine  shop  round  the  corner,  I  called  at  the  Marchioness 
d'Arlange's  house,  pretending  to  be  the  servant  of  a  neigh- 
bouring duchess,  who  was  in  despair  at  having  lost  a 
favourif  .  and,  if  I  may  so  speak,  an  eloquent  parrot.  I 
was  very  kindly  given  permission  to  explore  the  garden; 


THE  LEKOUGE  CASE.  261 

and,  as  I  spoke  as  disrespectfully  as  possible  of  my  pre- 
tended mistress,  they,  no  doubt,  took  me  for  a  genuine 
servant." 

"  You  are  an  adroit  and  prompt  fellow,  M.  Martin," 
interrupted  the  magistrate.  "  I  am  well  satisfied  with 
you ;  and  I  will  report  you  favourably  at  headquarters." 

He  rang  his  bell,  while  the  detective,  delighted  at  the 
praise  he  had  received,  moved  backwards  to  the  door,  bow- 
ing the  while. 

Albert  was  then  brought  in.  "  Have  you  decided,  sir," 
asked  the  investigating  magistrate  without  preamble,  "  to 
give  me  a  true  account  of  how  you  spent  last  Tuesday 
evening  ?  " 

"  I  have  already  told  you,  sir." 

"  No,  sir,  you  have  not ;  and  I  regret  to  say  that  you 
lied  to  me." 

Albert,  at  this  apparent  insult,  turned  red,  and  his  eyes 
flashed. 

"  I  know  all  that  you  did  on  that  evening,"  continued 
the  magistrate,  "  because  justice,  as  I  have  already  told 
you,  is  ignorant  of  nothing  that  it  is  important  for  it  to 
know."  Then,  looking  straight  into  Albert's  eyes,  he 
continued  slowly :  "  I  have  seen  Mademoiselle  Claire 
d'Arlange." 

On  hearing  that  name,  the  prisoner's  features,  con- 
tracted by  a  firm  resolve  not  to  give  way,  relaxed.  It 
seemed  as  though  he  experienced  an  immense  sensation 
of  delight,  like  a  man  who  escapes  almost  by  a  miracle 
from  an  imminent  danger  which  he  had  despaired  of  avoid- 
ing. However,  he  made  no  reply. 

"  Mademoiselle  d'Arlange,"  continued  the  magistrate, 
"  has  told  me  where  you  were  on  Tuesday  evening." 

Albert  still  hesitated. 

•'  I  am  not  setting  a  trap  for  you,"  added  M.  Daburon ; 
"  I  give  you  my  word  of  honour.  She  has  told  me  all, 
you  understand  ?  " 

This  time  Albert  decided  to  speak.  His  explanations 
corresponded  exactly  with  Claire's ;  not  one  detail  more. 
Henceforth,  doubt  was  impossible.  Mademoiselle  d'Ar- 
lange had  not  been  imposed  upon.  Either  Albert  was  in- 
nocent, or  she  was  his  accomplice.  Could  she  knowingly 
be  the  accomplice  of  such  an  odious  crime  ?  No ;  she 
could  not  even  be  suspected  of  it.  But  who  then  was  the 


262  77//-;  LE ROUGE  CASE. 

assassin  ?  For,  when  a  crime  has  been  committed,  jus- 
tice demands  a  culprit. 

"  You  see,  sir,"  said  the  magistrate  severely  to  Albert, 
"  you  did  deceive  me.  You  risked  your  life,  sir,  and, 
what  is  also  very  serious,  you  exposed  me,  you  exposed 
justice,  to  commit  a  most  deplorable  mistake.  Why  did 
you  not  tell  me  the  truth  at  once  ?  " 

"  Mademoiselle  d'Arlange,  sir,"  replied  Albert,  "  in  ac- 
cording me  a  meeting,  trusted  in  my  honour." 

"  And  you  would  have  died  sooner  than  mention  that 
interview  ?  "  interrupted  M.  Daburon  with  a  touch  of  irony. 
"  That  is  all  very  fine,  sir,  and  worthy  of  the  days  of 
chivalry !  " 

"  I  am  not  the  hero  that  you  suppose,  sir,"  replied  the 
prisoner  simply.  "  If  I  told  you  that  I  did  not  count  on 
Claire,  I  should  be  telling  a  falsehood.  I  was  waiting 
for  her.  I  knew  that,  on  learning  of  my  arrest,  she  would 
brave  everything  to  save  me.  But  her  friends  might  have 
hid  it  from  her;  and  that  was  what  I  feared.  In  that 
event,  I  do  not  think,  so  far  as  one  can  answer  for  one- 
self, that  I  should  have  mentioned  her  name." 

There  was  no  appearance  of  bravado.  What  Albert 
said,  he  thought  and  felt.  M.  Daburon  regretted  his  irony. 
"  Sir,"  he  said  kindly,  "  you  must  return  to  your  prison. 
I  cannot  release  you  yet;  but  you  will  be  no  longer  in 
solitary  confinement.  You  will  be  treated  with  every 
attention  due  to  a  prisoner  whose  innocence  appears  prob- 
able." Albert  bowed,  and  thanked  him  ;  and  was  then  re- 
moved. 

"  We  are  now  ready  for  Gevrol,"  said  the  magistrate  to 
his  clerk. 

The  chief  of  detectives  was  absent :  he  had  been  sent 
for  from  the  Prefecture  of  Police ;  but  his  witness,  the 
man  with  the  earrings,  was  waiting  in  the  .passage.  He 
was  told  to  enter.  He  was  one  of  those  short,  thick-set 
men,  powerful  as  oaks,  who  can  carry  almost  any  weight 
on  their  broad  shoulders.  His  white  hair  and  whiskers 
set  off  his  features,  hardened  and  tanned  by  the  inclem- 
ency of  the  weather,  the  sea  winds  and  the  heat  of  the 
tropics.  He  had  large  .callous  black  hands,  with  big 
sinewy  fingers  which  must  have  possessed  the  strength 
of  a  vice.  Great  earrings  in  the  form  of  anchors  hung 
from  his  ears.  He  was  dressed  in  the  costume  of  a  well 


IJ-.KOL'GE  CASE.  263 

to-do  Normandy  fisherman  out  for  a  holiday.  The  clerk 
was  obliged  to  push  him  into  the  office,  for  this  son 
of  the  ocean  was  timid  and  abashad  when  on  shore. 
He  advanced,  balancing  himself  first  on  one  leg,  then 
on  the  other,  with  that  irregular  walk  of  the  sailor,  who, 
used  to  the  rolling  and  tossing  of  the  waves,  is  surprised 
to  find  anything  immovable  beneath  his  feet.  To  give 
himself  confidence,  he  fumbled  over  his  soft  felt  hat, 
decorated  with  little  lead  medals,  like  the  cap  of  king 
Louis  XI.  of  devout  memory,  and  also  adorned  with  some 
of  that  worsted  twist  made  by  the  young  country  girls,  on 
a  primitive  frame  composed  of  four  or  five  pins  stuck  in  a 
hollow  cork. 

M.  Daburon  examined  him,  and  estimated  him  at  a 
glance.  There  was  no  doubt  but  that  he  was  the  sunburnt 
man  described  by  one  of  the  witnesses  at  La  Jonchere. 
It  was  also  impossible  to  doubt  his  honesty.  His  open 
countenance  displayed  sincerity  and  good  nature. 

"  Your  name  ? "  demanded  the  investigating  magistrate. 

"  Marie  Pierre  Lerouge." 

'  Are  you,  then,  related  to  Claudine  Lerouge  ? " 

"  I  am  her  husband,  sir." 

What,  the  husband  of  the  victim  alive,  and  the  police 
ignorant  of  his  existence  !  Thus  thought  M.  Daburon. 
"  Every  one,"  said  he,  "  believed  her  a  widow.  She  herself 
pretended  to  be  one." 

"  Yes,  for  in  that  way  she  partly  excused  her  conduct. 
Besides,  it  was  an  arrangement  between  ourselves.  I  had 
told  her  that  I  would  have  nothing  more  to  do  with  her." 

"  Indeed  ?  Well,  you  know  that  she  is  dead,  victim  of 
an  odious  crime  ?  " 

"  The  detective  who  brought  me  here  told  me  of  it,  sir," 
replied  the  sailor,  his  face  darkening.  "  She  was  a  wretch !  " 
he  added  in  a  hollow  voice. 

"  How  ?     You,  her  husband,  accuse  her  ?  " 

"  I  have  but  too  good  reason  to  do  so,  sir.  .Ah,  my  dead 
father,  who  foresaw  it  all  at  the  time,  warned  me  !  I 
laughed,  when  he  said,  '  Take  care,  or  she  will  dishonour 
us  all.'  He  was  riglit.  Through  her,  I  have  been  hunted 
down  by  the  police,  just  like  some  skulking  thief.  Every- 
where that  they  inquired  after  me  with  their  warrant, 
people  must  have  said  •  '  Ah,  ha,  he  has  then  committed 
some  crime  ! '  And  here  I  am  before  a  magistrate  !  Ah, 


264  yy//i  1.1: ROUGE  CASE. 

sir,  what  a  disgrace  !  The  Lerouges  have  been  honest 
people,  from  father  to  son,  ever  since  the  world  began. 
Inquire  of  all  who  have  ever  had  dealings  with  me,  they 
will  tell  you,  '  Lerouge's  word  is  as  good  as  another  man's 
writing.'  Yes,  she  was  a  wicked  woman  ;  and  I  have  often 
told  her  that  she  would  come  to  a  bad  end." 

"  You  told  her  that  ?  " 

"  More  than  a  hundred  times,  sir." 

"  Why  ?  Come,  my  friend,  do  not  be  uneasy,  your  honour 
is  not  at  stake  here,  no  one  questions  it.  When  did  you 
warn  her  so  wisely  ?  " 

"  Ah,  a  long  time  ago,  sir,"  replied  the  sailor,  "  the  first 
time  was  more  than  thirty  years  back.  She  had  ambition 
even  in  her  blood ;  she  wished  to  mix  herself  up  in  the 
intrigues  of  the  great.  It  was  that  that  ruined  her.  She 
said  thaf  one  got  money  for  keeping  secrets ;  and  I  said 
that  one  got  disgraced  and  that  was  all.  To  help  the  great 
to  hide  their  villanies,  and  to  expect  happiness  from  it,  is 
like  making  your  bed  of  thorns,  in  the  hope  of  sleeping 
well.  But  she  had  a  will  of  her  own." 

"  You  were  her  husband,  though,"  objected  M.  Daburon, 
"you  had  the  right  to  command  her  obedience." 

The  sailor  shook  his  head,  and  heaved  a  deep  sigh. 
"  Alas,  sir  !  it  was  I  who  obeyed." 

To  proceed  by  short  inquiries  with  a  witness,  when  you 
have  no  idea  of  the  information  he  brings,  is  but  to  lose 
time  in  attempting  to  gain  it.  When  you  think  you  are 
approaching  the  important  fact,  you  may  be  just  avoiding  it. 
It  is  much  better  to  give  the  witness  the  rein,  and  to  listen 
carefully,  putting  him  back  on  the  track  should  he  get  too  far 
away.  It  is  the  surest  and  easiest  method.  This  was  the 
course  M.  Dnburon  adopted,  all  the  time  cursing  Gevrol's 
absence,  as  he  by  a  single  word  could  have  shortened  by 
a  good  half  the  examination,  the  importance  of  which,  by 
the  way,  the  magistrate  did  not  even  suspect. 

"  In  what  intrigues  did  your  wife  mingle  ?  "  asked  he. 
"  Go  on,  my  friend,  tell  me  everything  exactly  ;  here,  you 
know,  we  must  have  not  only  the  truth,  but  the  whole 
truth." 

Lerouge  placed  his  hat  on  a  chair.  Then  he  began 
alternately  to  pull  his  fingers,  making  them  crack  almost 
sufficiently  to  break  them,  and  ultimately  scratched  his 
head  violently.  It  was  his  way  of  arranging  his  ideas, 


THE  LEKOL'GE  CASE.  265 

"  I  must  tell  you,''  he  began,  "  that  it  will  be  thirty-five 
years  on  St.  John's  day  since  I  fell  in  love  with  Claudine. 
She  was  a  pretty,  neat,  fascinating  girl,  with  a  voice  sweeter 
than  honey.  She  was  the  most  beautiful  girl  in  our 
part  of  the  country,  straight  as  a  mast,  supple  as  a  willow, 
graceful  and  strong  as  a  racing  boat.  Her  eyes  sparkled 
like  old  cider  ;  her  hair  was  black,  her  teeth  as  white  as 
pearls,  and  her  breath  was  as  fresh  as  the  sea  breeze. 
The  misfortune  was,  that  she  hadn't  a  sou,  while  we  were 
in  easy  circumstances.  Her  mother,  who  was  the  widow 
of  I  can't  say  how  many  husbands,  was,  saving  your  pres- 
ence, a  bad  woman,  and  my  father  was  the  worthiest  man 
alive.  When  I  spoke  to  the  old  fellow  of  marrying  Clau- 
dine he  swore  fiercely,  and  eight  days  after,  he  sent  me  to 
Oporto  on  a  schooner  belonging  to  one  of  our  neighbours, 
just  to  give  me  a  change  of  air.  I  came  back,  at  the  end 
of  six  months,  thinner  than  a  thole,  but  more  in  love  than 
ever.  Recollections  of  Claudine  scorched  me  like  a  fire. 
I  could  scarcely  eat  or  drink  ;  but  I  felt  that  she  loved  me 
a  little  in  return,  for  I  was  a  fine  young  fellow,  and  more 
than  one  girl  had  set  her  cap  at  me.  Then  my  father, 
seeing  that  he  could  do  nothing,  that  I  was  wasting  away, 
and  was  on  the  road  to  join  my  mother  in  the  cemetery, 
decided  to  let  me  complete  my  folly,  So  one  evening, 
after  we  had  returned  from  fishing  and  I  got  up  from  supper 
without  tasting  it,  he  said  to  me,  '  Marry  the  hag's  daughter, 
and  let's  have  no  more  of  this.'  I  remember  it  distinctly, 
because,  when  I  heard  the  old  fellow  call  my  love  such  a 
name,  I  flew  into  a  great  passion,  and  almost  wanted  to 
kill  him.  Ah,  one  never  gains  anything  by  marrying  in 
opposition  to  one's  parents  !  " 

The  worthy  fellow  was  lost  in  the  midst  of  his  recollec- 
tions. He  was  very  far  from  his  story.  The  investigating 
magistrate  attempted  to  bring  him  back  into  the  right  path. 
"  Come  to  the  point,"  he  said. 

"  I  am  going  to,  sir ;  but  it  was  necessary  to  begin  at  the 
beginning.  I  married.  The  evening  after  the  wedding, 
and  when  the  relatives  and  guests  had  departed,  I  was  about 
to  join  my  wife,  when  I  perceived  my  father  all  alone  in  a 
corner  weeping.  The  sight  touched  my  heart,  and  I  had  a 
foreboding  of  evil ;  but  it  quickly  passed  away.  It  is  so 
delightful  during  the  first  six  months  one  passes  with  a 
clearly  loved  wife  !  One  seems  to  be  surrounded  by  mists 


266  THE  LEKOL'GE  CAS/-.. 

that  change  the  very  rocks  into  palaces  and  temples  so  com- 
pletely that  novices  are  taken  in.  For  two  years,  in  spite 
of  a  few  little  quarrels,  everything  went  on  nicely.  Claudine 
managed  me  like  a  child.  Ah,  she  was  cunning!  She 
might  have  seized  and  bound  me,  and  carried  me  to  market 
and  sold  me,  without  my  noticing  it.  Her  great  fault  was 
her  love  of  finery.  All  that  I  earned,  and  my  business 
was  very  prosperous,  she  put  on  her  back.  Every  week 
there  was  something  new,  dresses,  jewels,  bonnets,  the 
devil's  baubles,  which  the  dealers  invent  for  the  perdition  of 
the  female  sex.  The  neighbors  chattered,  but  I  thought 
it  was  all  right.  At  the  baptism  of  our  son,  who  was  called 
Jacques  after  my  father,  to  please  her,  I  squandered  all  I 
had  economized  during  my  youth,  more  than  three  hundred 
pistoles,  with  which  I  had  intended  purchasing  a  meadow 
that  lay  in  the  midst  of  our  property." 

M.  Daburon  was  boiling  over  with  impatience,  but  he 
could  do  nothing.  "  Go  on,  go  on,"  he  said  every  time 
Le rouge  seemed  inclined  to  stop. 

"  I  was  well  enough  pleased,"  continued  the  sailor, 
"  until  one  morning  I  saw  one  of  the  Count  de  Ccmmarin's 
servants  entering  our  house ;  the  count's  chateau  is  only 
about  a  mile  from  where  I  lived  on  the  other  side  of  the 
town.  It  was  a  fellow  named  Germain  whom  I  didn't  like 
at  all.  It  was  said  about  the  country  that  he  had  been 
mixed  up  in  the  seduction  of  poor  Thomassine,  a  fine 
young  girl  who  lived  near  us ;  she  appears  to  have  pleased 
the  count,  and  one  day  suddenly  disappeared.  I  asked 
my  wife  what  the  fellow  wanted ;  she  replied  that  he  had 
come  to  ask  her  to  take  a  child  to  nurse.  I  would  not 
hear  of  it  at  first,  for  our  means  were  sufficient  to  allow 
Claudine  to  keep  all  her  milk  for  our  own.  child.  But  she 
gave  me  the  very  best  of  reasons.  She  said  she  regretted 
her  past  flirtations  and  her  extravagance.  She  wished  to 
earn  a  little  money,  being  ashamed  of  doing  nothing  while 
I  was  killing  myself  with  work.  She  wanted  to  save,  to 
economize,  so  that  our  child  should  not  be  obliged  in  his 
turn  to  go  to  sea.  She  was  to  get  a  very  good  price,  that 
we  could  save  up  to  go  towards  the  three  hundred  pistoles. 
That  confounded  meadow,  to  which  she  alluded,  decided 
me. " 

"  Did  she  not  tell  you  of  the  commission  with  which  sh€ 
was  charged  ?  "  asked  the  magistrate. 


THE  LE ROUGE  CASE.  267 

This  question  astonished  Lerouge.  He  thought  that 
there  was  good  reason  to  say  that  justice  sees  and  knows 
everything.  "  Not  then,"  he  answered,  "  But  you  will  see. 
Eight  days  after,  the  postman  brought  a  letter,  asking  her 
to  go  to  Paris  to  fetch  the  child.  It  arrived  in  the  evening. 
'  Very  well,'  said  she,  '  I  will  start  to-morrow  by  the  dili- 
gence.' I  didn't  say  a  word  then  ;  but  next  morning,  when 
she  was  about  to  take  her  seat  in  the  diligence,  I  declared 
that  I  was  going  with  her.  She  didn't  seem  at  all  angry, 
on  the  contrary.  She  kissed  me,  and  I  was  delighted.  At 
Paris,  she  was  to  call  for  the  little  one  at  a  Madame  Gerdy's, 
who  lived  on  the  Boulevard.  We  arranged  that  she 
should  go  alone,  while  I  awaited  for  her  at  our  inn.  After 
she  had  gone,  I  grew  uneasy.  I  went  out  soon  after,  and 
prowled  about  near  Madame  Gerdy's  house,  making  in- 
quiries of  the  servants  and  others  :  I  soon  discovered  that 
she  was  the  Count  de  Commarin's  mistress.  I  felt  so  an- 
noyed that,  if  I  had  been  master,  my  wife  should  have 
come  away  without  the  little  bastard.  I  am  only  a  poor 
sailor,  and  I  know  that  a  man  sometimes  forgets  himself. 
One  takes  too  much  to  drink,  for  instance,  or  goes  out  on 
the  loose  with  some  friends ;  but  that  a  man  with  a  wife 
and  children  should  live  with  another  woman  and  give  her 
what  really  belongs  to  his  legitimate  offspring,  I  think  is 
bad — very  bad.  Is  it  not  so,  sir?" 

The  investigating  magistrate  moved  impatiently  in  his 
chair.  "Will  this  man  never  come  to  the  point,"  he  mut- 
tered. "  Yes,  you  are  perfectly  right,"  he  added  aloud  ; 
"  but  never  mind  your  thoughts.  Go  on,  go  on  !  " 

"  Claudine,  sir,  was  more  obstinate  than  a  mule.  After 
three  days  of  violent  discussion,  she  obtained  from  me  a 
reluctant  consent,  between  two  kisses.  Then  she  told  me 
that  we  were  not  going  to  return  home  by  the  diligence. 
The  lady,  who  feared  the  fatigue  of  the  journey  for  her 
child,  had  arranged  that  we  should  travel  back  by  short 
stages,  in  her  carriage,  and  drawn  by  her  horses.  For 
she  was  kept  in  grand  style.  I  was  ass  enough  to  be  de- 
lighted, because  it  gave  me  a  chance  to  see  the  country  at 
my  leisure.  We  were,  therefore,  installed  with  the  chil- 
dren, mine  and  the  other,  in  an  elegant  carriage,  drawn  by 
magnificent  animals,  and  driven  by  a  coachman  in  livery. 
My  wife  was  mad  with  joy ;  she  kissed  me  over  and  over 
again,  and  chinked  handfuls  of  gold  in  my  face.  I  felt  as 


268  TJIK  LEROUGE  CASE. 

foolish  as  an  honest  husband  who  finds  money  in  his  house 
which  he  didn't  earn  himself.  Seeing  how  1  felt,  Claudine, 
hoping  to  pacify  me,  resolved  to  tell  me  the  whole  truth. 
'  See  here,'  she  said  to  me, — "  Lerouge  stopped,  and, 
changing  his  tone,  said,  "  You  understand  that  it  is  my 
wife  who  is  speaking?  " 

"Yes,  yes.     Go  on." 

"  She  said  to  me,  shaking  her  pocket  full  of  money, 
'  See  here,  my  man,  we  shall  always  have  as  much  of  this 
as  ever  we  may  want,  and  this  is  why  :  The  count  who 
also  had  a  legitimate  child  at  the  same  time  as  this  bas- 
tard, wishes  that  this  one  shall  bear  his  name  instead  of 
the  other;  and  this  can  be  accomplished,  thanks  to  me. 
On  the  road,  we  shall  meet  at  the  inn,  where  we  are  to 
sleep,  M.  Germain  and  the  nurse  to  whom  they  have  en- 
trusted the  legitimate  son.  We  shall  be  put  in  the  room, 
and,  during  the  night,  I  am  to  change  the  little  ones,  who 
have  been  purposely  dressed  alike.  For  this  the  count 
gives  me  eight  thousand  francs  down,  and  a  life  annuity  of 
a  thousand  francs.'  " 

"  And  you  !  "  exclaimed  the  magistrate,  "  you,  who  call 
yourself  an  honest  man,  permitted  such  villainy,  when  one 
word  would  have  been  sufficient  to  prevent  it  ?  " 

"  Sir,  I  beg  of  you,"  entreated  Lerouge,  "permit  me  to 
finish." 

"  Well,  continue  !  " 

"  I  could  say  nothing  at  first,  I  was  so  choked  with  rage. 
I  must  have  looked  terrible.  But  she,  who  was  generally 
afraid  of  me  when  I  was  in  a  passion,  burst  out  laughing, 
and  said,  ' What  a  fool  you  are!  Listen,  before  turning 
sour  like  a  bowl  of  milk.  The  count  is  the  only  one  who 
wants  this  change  made  ;  and  he  is  the  one  that's  to  pay 
for  it.  His  mistress,  this  little  one's  mother,  doesn't  want 
it  at  all ;  she  merely  pretended  to  consent,  so  as  not  to 
quarrel  with  her  lover,  and  because  she  has  got  a  plan  of 
her  own.  She  took  me  aside,  during  my  visit  in  her  room, 
and,  after  having  made  me  swear  secrecy  on  a  crucifix,  she 
told  me  that  she  couldn't  bear  the  idea  of  separating  her- 
self from  her  babe  forever,  and  of  bringing  up  another's 
child.  She  added  that,  if  I  would  agree  not  to  change  the 
children,  and  not  to  tell  the  count,  she  would  give  me  ten 
thousand  francs  down,  and  guarantee  me  an  annuity  equal 
to  the  one  the  count  had  promised  me.  She  declared,  also, 


THE  LE ROUGE  CASE.  269 

that  she  could  easily  find  out  whether  I  kept  my  word,  as 
she  had  made  a  mark  of  recognition  on  her  little  one. 
She  didn't  show  me  the  mark ;  and  I  have  examined  him 
carefully,  but  can't  find  it.  Do  you  understand  now.  I 
merely  take  care  of  this  little  fellow  here  ;  I  tell  the  count 
that  I  have  changed  the  children ;  we  receive  from  both 
sides,  and  Jacques  will  be  rich.  Now  kiss  your  little  wife 
who  has  more  sense  than  you,  you  old  clear  !  '  That,  sir 
is  word  for  word  what  Claudine  said  to  me." 

The  rough  sailor  drew  from  his  pocket  a  large  blue- 
checked  handkerchief,  and  blew  his  nose  so  violently  that 
the  windows  shook.  It  was  his  way  of  weeping.  M.  Da- 
buron  was  confounded.  Since  the  beginning  of  this  sad 
affair,  he  had  encountered  surprise  after  surprise.  Scarcely 
had  he  got  his  ideas  in  order  on  one  point,  when  all  his 
attention  was  directed  to  another. 

He  felt  himself  utterly  routed.  What  was  he  about  to 
learn  now  ?  He  longed  to  interrogate  quickly,  but  he  saw 
that  Lerouge  told  his  story  with  difficulty,  laboriously  dis- 
entangling his  recollections ;  he  was  guided  by  a  single 
thread  which  the  least  interruption  might  seriously  entan- 
gle. 

"  What  Claudine  proposed  to  me,"  continued  the  sailor, 
"  was  villainous ;  and  I  am  an  honest  man.  But  she 
kneaded  me  to  her  will  as  easily  as  a  baker  kneads  dough. 
She  turned  my  heart  topsy-turvy :  she  made  me  see  white 
as  snow  that  which  was  really  as  black  as  ink.  How  I 
loved  her  !  She  proved  to  me  that  we  were  wronging  no 
one,  that  we  were  making  little  Jacques's  fortune,  and  I 
was  silenced.  At  evening  we  arrived  at  some  village ;  and 
the  coachman,  stopping  the  carriage  before  an  inn,  told  us 
we  were  to  sleep  there.  We  entered,  and  who  do  you 
think  we  saw  ?  That  scamp,  Germain,  with  a  nurse  carry- 
ing a  child  dressed  so  exactly  like  the  one  we  had  that  I 
was  startled.  They  had  journeyed  there,  like  ourselves, 
in  one  of  the  count's  carriages.  A  suspicion  crossed  my 
mind.  How  could  I  be  sure  that  Claudine  had  not  in- 
vented the  second  story  to  pacify  me  ?  She  was  certainly 
capable  of  it.  I  was  enraged.  I  had  consented  to  the 
one  wickedness,  but  not  to  the  other.  I  resolved  not  to 
lose  sight  of  the  little  bastard,  swearing  that  they  shouldn't 
change  it ;  so  I  kept  him  all  the  evening  on  my  knees,  and 
to  be  all  the  more  sure,  I  tied  my  handkerchief  about  his 


270  'l  'HE  L EA'Of  ~C1:   <  'AS  /-. . 

waist.  Ah !  the  plan  had  been  well  laid.  After  supper, 
some  one  spoke  of  retiring,  and  then  it  turned  out  that 
there  were  only  two  double-bedded  rooms  in  the  house.  It 
seemed  as  though  it  had  been  built  expressly  for  the 
scheme.  The  innkeeper  said  that  the  two  nurses  might 
sleep  in  one  room,  and  Germain  and  myself  in  the  other. 
Do  you  understand,  sir  ?  Add  to  this,  that  during  the 
evening  I  had  surprised  looks  of  intelligence  passing  be- 
tween my  wife  and  that  rascally  servant,  and  you  can 
imagine  how  furious  I  was.  It  was  conscience  that  spoke  ; 
and  I  was  trying  to  silence  it.  I  knew  very  well  that  I  was 
doing  wrong ;  and  I  almost  wished  myself  dead.  Why  is 
it  that  women  can  turn  an  honest  man's  conscience  about 
like  a  weather-cock  with  their  wheedling?  " 

M.  Daburon's  only  reply  was  a  heavy  blow  of  his  fist  on 
the  table. 

Lerouge  proceeded  more  quickly.  "  As  for  me,  I  upset 
that  arrangement,  pretending  to  be  too  jealous  to  leave 
my  wife  a  minute.  They  were  obliged  to  give  way  to  me. 
The  other  nurse  went  up  to  bed  first.  Claudine  and  I 
followed  soon  afterwards.  My  wife  undressed  and  got  in- 
to bed  with  our  son  and  the  little  bastard.  I  did  not  un- 
dress. Under  the  pretext  that  I  should  be  in  the  way 
of  the  children,  I  installed  myself  in  a  chair  near  the  bed, 
determined  not  to  shut  my  eyes,  and  to  keep  close  watch. 
I  put  out  the  candle,  in  order  to  let  the  women  sleep, 
though  I  could  not  think  of  doing  so  myself ;  and  I  thought 
of  my  father,  and  of  what  he  would  say,  if  he  ever  heard 
of  my  behaviour.  Towards  midnight,  I  heard  Claudine 
moving.  I  held  my  breath.  She  was  getting  out  of  bed. 
Was  she  going  to  change  the  children  !  Now,  I  know 
that  she  was  not ;  then,  I  felt  sure  that  she  was.  I  was 
beside  myself,  and  seizing  her  by  the  arm,  I  commenced 
to  beat  her  roughly,  giving  free  vent  to  all  that  I  had  on 
my  heart.  I  spoke  in  a  loud  voice,  the  same  as-  when  1 
am  on  board  ship  in  a  storrn  ;  I  swore  like  a  fiend ,  I  raised 
a  frightful  disturbance.  The  other  nurse  cried  out  as 
though  she  were  being  murdered.  At  this  uproar,  Ger- 
main rushed  in  with  a  lighted  candle.  The  sight  of  him 
finished  me.  Not  knowing  what  I  was  doing,  I  drew  from 
my  pocket  a  long  Spanish  knife,  which  I  always  carried, 
and  seizing  the  cursed  bastard,  I  thrust  the  blade  through 


THE  LEROUGE  CASE.  271 

his  arm,  crying,  '  This  way,  at  least,  he  can't  be  changed 
without  my  knowing  it ;  he  is  marked  for  life  ! ' ' 

Lerouge  could  scarcely  utter  another  word.  Great 
drops  of  sweat  stood  out  upon  his  brow,  then,  trickling 
down  his  cheeks,  lodged  in  the  deep  wrinkles  of  his  face. 
He  panted ;  but  the  magistrate's  stern  glance  harassed 
him,  and  urged  him  on,  like  the  whip  which  flogs  the  negro 
slave  overcome  with  fatigue. 

"  The  little  fellow's  wound,"  he  resumed,  "  was  terrible. 
It  bled  dreadfully,  and  he  might  have  died:  but  I  didn't 
think  of  that.  I  was  only  troubled  about  the  future,  about 
what  might  happen  afterwards.  I  declared  that  I  would 
write  oat  all  that  had  occurred,  and  that  everyone  should 
sign  it.  This  was  done ;  we  could  all  four  write.  Ger- 
main didn't  dare  resist;  for  I  spoke  with  knife  in  hand. 
He  wrote  his  name  first,  begging  me  to  say  nothing  about 
it  to  the  count,  swearing  that,  for  his  part,  he  would  never 
breathe  a  word  of  it,  and  pledging  the  other  nurse  to  a 
like  secrecy." 

"  And  have  you  kept  this  paper  ?  "  asked  M.  Daburon. 

"  Yes,  sir,  and  as  the  detective  to  whom  I  confessed  all, 
advised  me  to  bring  it  with  me,  I  went  to  take  it  from  the 
place  where  I  always  kept  it ,  and  I  have  it  here." 

"  Give  it  to  me." 

Lerouge  took  from  his  coat  pocket  an  old  parchment 
pocket-book,  fastened  with  a  leather  thong,  and  withdrew 
from  it  a  paper  yellow  by  age  and  carefully  sealed. 
"  Here  it  is,"  said  he.  "  The  paper  hasn't  been  opened 
since  that  accursed  night." 

And,  in  fact,  when  the  magistrate  unfolded  it,  some  dust 
fell  out,  which  had  been  used  to  keep  the  writing,  when 
wet,  from  blotting.  It  was  really  a  brief  description  of  the 
scene,  described  by  the  old  sailor.  The  four  signatures 
were  there.  "  What  has  become  of  the  witnesses  who 
signed  this  declaration  ?  "  murmured  the  magistrate,  speak- 
ing to  himself. 

Lerouge,  who  thought  the  question  was  put  to  him,  re- 
plied, "  Germain  is  dead.  I  have  been  told  that  he  was 
drowned  when  out  rowing.  Claudine  has  just  been  assas- 
binated  :  but  the  other  nurse  still  lives.  I  even  know  that 
she  spoke  of  the  affair  to  her  husband,  for  he  hinted  as 
much  to  me.  His  name  is  Brossette,  and  he  lives  in  the 
village  of  Commarin  itself." 


272  THE  LEROUGE  CASE. 

"  And  what  next  ? "  asked  the  magistrate,  after  having 
taking  down  the  name  and  address. 

"  The  next  day,  sir,  Claudine  managed  to  pacify  me,  and 
extorted  a  promise  of  secrecy.  The  child  was  scarcely  ill 
at  all ;  but  he  retained  an  enormous  scar  on  his  arm." 

"Was  Madame  Gerdy  informed  of  what  took  place  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  think  so,  sir.  But  I  would  rather  say  wthat  I 
do  not  know." 

"  What !  you  do  not  know  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  swear  it.  You  see  my  ignorance  comes 
from  what  happened  afterwards." 

"  What  happened,  then  ?  " 

The  sailor  hesitated.  "  That,  sir,  concerns  only  myself, 
and—" 

"My  friend,"  interrupted  the  magistrate,  "you  are  an 
honest  man,  I  believe  ;  in  fact,  I  am  sure  of  it.  But  once 
in  your  life,  influenced  by  a  wicked  woman,  you  did  wrong, 
you  became  an  accomplice  in  a  very  guilty  action.  Re- 
pair that  error  by  speaking  truly  now.  All  that  is  said 
here,  and  which  is  not  directly  connected  with  the  crime, 
will  remain  secret ;  even  I  will  forget  it  immediately. 
Fear  nothing,  therefore ;  and,  if  you  experience  some 
humilation,  think  that  it  is  your  punishment  for  the  past." 

"  Alas,  sir,"  answered  the  sailor,  "  I  have  been  already 
greatly  punished  ;  and  it  is  a  long  time  since  my  troubles 
began.  Money,  wickedly  acquired,  brings  no  good.  On 
arriving  home,  I  bought  the  wretched  meadow  for  much 
more  than  it  was  worth ;  and  the  day  I  walked  over  it, 
feeling  that  is  was  actually  mine,  closed  my  happiness. 
Claudine  was  a  coquette  ;  but  she  had  a  great  many  other 
vices.  When  she  realised  how  much  money  we  had  these 
vices  showed  themselves,  just  like  a  fire,  smouldering  at 
the  bottom  of  the  hold,  bursts  forth  when  you  open  the 
hatches.  From  slightly  greedy  as  she  had  been,  she  be- 
came a  regular  glutton.  In  our  house  there  was  feasting 
without  end.  Whenever  I  went  to  sea,  she  would  enter- 
tain the  worst  women  in  the  place ;  and  there  was  nothing 
too  good  or  too  expensive  for  them.  She  would  get  so 
drunk  that  she  would  have  to  be  put  to  bed.  Well,  one 
night,  when  she  thought  me  at  Rouen,  I  returned  unex- 
pectedly. I  entered,  and  found  her  with  a  'man.  And 
such  a  man,  sir !  A  miserable  looking  wretch,  ugly,  dirty, 
stinking  ;  shunned  by  everyone  ;  in  a  word  the  bailiff's 


THE  LEROUGE  CASE.  273 

clerk.  I  should  have  killed  him,  like  the  vermin  that  he 
was  ;  it  was  my  right,  but  he  was  such  a  pitiful  object.  I 
took  him  by  the  neck  and  pitched  him  out  of  the  window, 
without  opening  it.  It  didn't  kill  him.  Then  I  fell  upon 
my  wife,  and  beat  her  until  she  couldn't  stir.-" 

Lerouge  spoke  in  a  hoarse  voice,  every  now  and  then 
thrusting  his  fists  into  his  eyes. 

li  I  pardoned  her,"  he  continued  ;  "  but  the  man  who 
beats  nis  wife  and  then  pardons  her  is  lost.  In  the  future, 
she  took  better  precautions,  became  a  greater  hypocrite, 
and  that  was  all.  In  the  meanwhile,  Madame  Gerdy  took 
back  her  child  ;  and  Claudine  had  nothing  more  to  re- 
strain her.  Protected  and  counselled  by  her  mother, 
whom  she  had  taken  to  live  with  us,  on  the  pretence  of 
looking  after  Jacques,  she  managed  to  deceive  me  for 
more  than  a  year.  I  thought  she  had  given  up  her  bad 
habits,  but  not  at  all ;  she  lived  a  most  disgraceful  life. 
My  house  became  the  resort  of  all  the  good-for-nothing 
rogues  in  the  country,  for  whom  my  wife  brought  out  bot- 
tles of  wine  and  brandy,  whenever  I  was  away  at  sea,  and 
they  got  drunk  promiscuously.  When  money  failed,  she 
wrote  to  the  count  or  his  mistress,  and  the  orgies  continued. 
Occasionally  I  had  doubts  which  disturbed  me  ;  and  then 
without  reason,  for  a  simple  yes  or  no,  I  would  beat  her 
until  I  was  tired,  and  then  I  would  forgive  her,  like  a  cow- 
ard, like  a  fool.  It  was  a  cursed  life.  I  don't  know 
which  gave  me  the  most  pleasure,  embracing  her  or  beat- 
ing her.  My  neighbors  despised  me,  and  turned  their  backs 
on  me ;  they  believed  me  an  accomplice  or  a  willing  dupe. 
I  heard,  afterwards,  that  they  believed  I  profited  by  my 
wife's  misconduct ;  while  in  reality  she  paid  her  lovers. 
At  all  events,  people  wondered  where  all  the  money  came 
from  that  was  spent  in  my  house.  To  distinguish  me  from 
a  cousin  of  mine,  also  named  Lerouge,  they  tacked  an  in- 
famous word  on  to  my  name.  What  disgrace  !  And  I 
knew  nothing  of  all  the  scandal,  no,  nothing.  Was  I  not 
the  husband  ?  Fortunately,  though,  my  poor  lather  was 
dead." 

M.  Daburon  pitied  the  speaker  sincerely.  "  Rest  a 
while,  my  friend,"  he  said  ;  "compose  yourself." 

"  No,"  replied  the  sailor,  "  I  would  rather  get  through 
with  it  quickly.  One  man,  the  priest,  had  the  charity  to 
tell  me  of  it.  If  ever  he  should  want  Leroiige  !  Without 
7? 


274  THE  LEROUGE  CASE. 

losing  a  minute,  I  went  and  saw  a  lawyer,  and  asked  him 
how  an  honest  sailor  who  had  had  the  misfortune  to  marry 
a  hussy  ought  to  act.  He  said  that  nothing  could  be  done. 
To  go  to  law  was  simply  to  publish  abroad  one's  own  dis- 
honour, while  a  separation  would  accomplish  nothing. 
When  once  a  man  has  given  his  name  to  a  woman,  he  told 
me,  he  cannot  take  it  back  ;  it  belongs  to  her  for  the  rest 
of  her  days,  and  she  has  a  right  to  dispose  of  it.  She  may 
sully  it,  cover  it  with  mire,  drag  it  from  wine  shop  to  wine 
shop,  and  her  husband  can  do  nothing.  That  being  the 
case,  mv  course  was  soon  taken.  That  same  day,  I  sold 
the  fate  1  meadow,  and  send  the  proceeds  of  it  to  Claudine, 
wishing  to  keep  nothing  of  the  price  of  shame.  I  then 
had  a  document  drawn  up,  authorising  her  to  administer 
our  property,  but  not  allowing  her  either  to  sell  or  mort- 
gage it.  Then  I  wrote  her  a  letter  in  which  I  told  her  that 
she  need  never  expect  to  hear  of  me  again,  that  I  was 
nothing  more  to  her,  and  that  she  might  look  upon  herself 
as  a  widow.  That  same  night  I  went  away  with  my  son." 

"  And  what  became  of  your  wife  after  your  departure  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  say,  sir ;  I  only  know  that  she  quitted  the 
neighbourhood  a  year  after  I  did." 

"  You  have  never  lived  with  her  since  ?  " 

"  Never." 

"  But  you  were  at  her  house  three  days  before  the  crime 
was  commited." 

"  That  is  true,  but  it  was  absolutely  necessary.  I  had 
had  much  trouble  to  find  her,  no  one  knew  what  had  be- 
come of  her.  Fortunately  my  notary  was  able  to  procure 
Madame  Gerdy's  address ;  he  wrote  to  her,  and  that  is 
how  I  learnt  that  Claudine  was  living  at  La  Jonchere.  I 
was  then  at  Rome.  Captain  Gervais,  who  is  a  friend  of 
mine,  offered  to  take  me  to  Paris  on  his  boat,  and  I  ac- 
cepted. Ah,  sir,  what  a  shock  I  experienced  when  I  entered 
her  house  !  My  wife  did  not  know  me  !  By  constantly  tell- 
ing everyone  that  I  was  dead,  she  had  without  a  doubt 
ended  by  believing  it  herself.  When  I  told  her  my  name, 
she  fell  back  in  her  chair.  The  wretched  woman  had  not 
changed  in  the  least ;  she  had  by  her  side  a  glass  and  a 
bottle  of  brandy — " 

"  All  this  doesn't  explain  why  you  went  to  seek  your  wife." 

"  It  was  on  Jacques's  account,  sir,  that  I  went.  The 
youngster  has  grown  to  be  a  man ;  and  he  wants  to  marry, 


THE  LE ROUGE  CASE.  275 

For  that,  his  mother's  consent  was  necessary ,  and  I  was 
taking  to  Claudine  a  document  which  the  notary  had  drawn 
up,  and  which  she  signed.  This  is  it." 

M.  Daburon  took  the  paper,  and  appeared  to  read  it  at- 
tentively. After  a  moment  he  asked  :  "  Have  you  thought 
who  could  have  assassinated  your  wife  ?  " 

Lerouge  made  no  reply. 

"  Do  you  suspect  any  one  ?  "  persisted  the  magistrate. 

"  Well,  sir,"  replied  the  sailor,  "  what  can  I  say  ?  I 
thought  that  Claudine  had  wearied  out  the  people  from 
whom  she  drew  money,  like  water  from  a  well ;  or  else 
getting  drunk  one  day,  she  had  blabbed  too  freely." 

The  testimony  being  as  complete  as  possible,  M.  Dabu- 
ron dismissed  Lerouge,  at  the  same  time  telling  him  to 
wait  for  Gevrol,  who  would  take  him  to  a  hotel,  where 
he  might  wait,  at  the  disposal  of  justice,  until  further  or- 
ders. "  All  your  expenses  will  be  paid  you,"  added  the 
magistrate. 

Lerouge  had  scarcely  left,  when  an  extraordinary,  un- 
heard of,  unprecedented  event  took  place  in  the  magistrate's 
office.  Constant,  the  serious,  impressive,  immovable,  deaf 
and  dumb  Constant,  rose  from  his  seat  and  spoke.  He 
broke  a  silence  of  fifteen  years.  He  forgot  himself  so  far 
as  to  offer  an  opinion.  "  This,  sir,"  said  he,  "  is  a  most  ex- 
traordinary affair."  Very  extraordinary,  truly,  thought  M. 
Daburon,  and  calculated  to  rout  all  predictions,  all  pre- 
conceived opinions.  Why  had  he,  the  magistrate,  moved 
with  such  deplorable  haste  ?  Why  before  risking  anything, 
had  he  not  waited  to  possess  all  the  elements  of  this  im- 
portant case,  to  hold  all  the  threads  of  this  complicated 
drama  ?  Justice  is  accused  of  slowness  ;  but  it  is  this  very 
slowness  that  constitutes  its  strength  and  surety,  its  almost 
infallibility.  One  scarcely  knows  what  a  time  evidence 
takes  to  produce  itself.  There  is  no  knowing  what  impor- 
tant testimony  investigations  apparently  useless  may  reveal. 
When  the  entanglement  of  the  various  passions  and  motives 
seems  hopeless,  an  unknown  personage  presents  himself, 
coming  from  no  one  knows  where,  and  it  is  he  who  explains 
everything. 

M.  Daburon,  usually  the  most  prudent  of  men,  had  con- 
sidered as  simple  one  of  the  most  complex  of  cases.  He  had 
acted  in  a  mysterious  crime,  which  demanded  the  utmost 
caution,  as  carelessly  as  though  it  were  a  case  of  simple 


276  THE  LEKOUGE  CASE. 

misdemeanour.  Why?  Because  his  memory  had  not  left 
him  his  free  deliberation,  judgment,  and  discernment.  He 
had  feared  equally  appearing  weak  and  being  revengeful. 
Thinking  himself  sure  of  his  facts,  he  had  been  carried 
away  by  his  animosity.  And  yet  how  often  had  he  not 
asked  himself :  Where  is  duty  ?  But  then,  when  one  is 
at  all  doubtful  about  duty,  one  is  on  the  wrong  road.  The 
singular  part  of  it  all  was  that  the  magistrate's  faults  sprang 
from  his  very  honesty.  He  had  been  led  astray  by  a  too 
great  refinement  of  conscience.  The  scruples  which 
troubled  him  had  filled  his  mind  with  phantoms,  and  had 
prompted  in  him  the  passionate  animosity  he  had  displayed 
at  a  certain  moment.  Calmer  now,  he  examined  the  case 
more  soundly.  As  a  whole,  thank  heaven  !  there  was  noth- 
ing done  which  could  not  be  repaired.  He  accused  him- 
self, however,  none  the  less  harshly.  Chance  alone  had 
stopped  him.  At  that  moment  he  resolved  that  he  would 
never  undertake  another  investigation.  His  profession 
henceforth  inspired  him  with  an  unconquerable  loathing. 
Then  his  interview  with  Claire  had  re-opened  all  the  old 
wounds  in  his  heart,  and  they  bled  more  painfully  than  ever. 
He  felt,  in  despair,  that  his  life  was  broken,  mined.  A  man 
may  well  feel  so,  when  all  women  are  as  nc thing  to  him  ex- 
cept one,  whom  he  may  never  dare  hope  to  possess.  Too 
pious  a  man  to  think  of  suicide,  he  asked  himself  with  an- 
guish what  would  become  of  him  when  h^  threw  aside  his 
magistrate's  robes. 

Then  he  turned  again  to  the  business  in  hand-  In  any 
case,  innocent  or  guilty,  Albert  was  realty  the  Viscount  de 
Commarin,  the  count's  legitimate  son.  But  was  he  guilty  ? 
Evidently  he  was  not.  "  I  think,"  exclaimed  M.  Daburon 
suddenly,  "  I  must  speak  to  the  Count  de  Commarin.  Con- 
stant, send  to  his  house  a  message  for  him  to  come  here  at 
once  ;  if  he  is  not  at  home,  he  must  be  sought  for." 

M.  Daburon  felt  that  an  unpleasant  duty  was  before  him. 
He  would  be  obliged  to  say  to  the  old  nobleman :  "  Sir, 
your  legitimate  son  is  not  Noel,  but  Albert."  What  a  posi- 
tion, not  only  painful,  but  bordering  on  the  ridiculous  !  As 
a  compensation,  though,  he  could  tell  him  that  Albert  was 
innocent.  To  Noel  he  would  also  have  to  tell  the  truth  : 
hurl  him  to  earth,  after  having  raised  him  among  the  clouds. 
What  a  blow  it  would  be  !  But,  without  a  doubt,  the  count 
would  make  him  some  compensation  ;  at  least,  he  ought  to. 


THE  LEROUGE   CASE.  277 

<:  Now,"  murmured  the  magistrate,  "  who  can  be  the 
criminal  ? " 

An  idea  crossed  his  mind,  at  first  it  seemed  to  him  absurd. 
He  rejected  it,  then  thought  of  it  again.  He  examined  it 
in  all  its  various  aspects.  He  had  almost  adopted  it,  when 
M.  de  Commarin  entered.  M.  Daburon's  messenger  had 
arrived  just  as  the  count  was  alighting  from  his  carriage, 
on  returning  with  Claire  from  Madame  Gerdy's. 


XVIII. 

OLD  TABARET  talked,  but  he  acted  also.  Abandoned  by 
the  investigating  magistrate  to  his  own  resources,  he  set  to 
work  without  losing  a  minute  and  without  taking  a  moment's 
rest.  The  story  of  the  cabriolet,  drawn  by  a  swift  horse, 
was  exact  in  every  particular.  Lavish  with  his  money,  the 
old  fellow  had  gathered  together  a  dozen  detectives  on 
leave  or  rogues  out  of  work ;  and  at  the  head  of  these 
worthy  assistants,  seconded  by  his  friend  Lecoq,  he  had 
gone  to  Bougival.  He  had  actually  searched  the  country, 
house  by  house,  with  the  obstinacy  and  the  patience  of  a 
maniac  hunting  for  a  needle  in  a  hay-stack.  His  efforts 
were  not  absolutely  wasted. 

After  three  days'  investigation,  he  felt  comparatively  cer- 
tain that  the  assassin  had  not  left  the  train  at  Rueil,  as  all 
the  people  of  Eougival,  La  Jonchere,  and  Marly  do,  but 
had  gone  on  as  far  as  Chatou.  Tabaret  thought  he  recog- 
nized him  in  a  man  described  to  him  by  the  porters  at  that 
station  as  rather  young,  dark,  and  with  black  whiskers, 
carrying  an  overcoat  and  an  umbrella.  This  person,  who 
arrived  by  the  train  which  left  Paris  for  St.  Germain  at 
thirty-five  minutes  past  eight  in  the  evening,  had  appeared 
to  be  in  a  very  great  hurry.  On  quitting  the  station,  he 
had  started  off  at  a  rapid  pace  on  the  road  which  led  to 
Bougival.  Upon  the  way,  two  men  from  Marly  and  a 
woman  from  La  Malmaison  had  noticed  him  on  account  of 
his  rapid  pace.  He  smoked  as  he  hurried  along.  On 
crossing  the  bridge  which  joins  the  two  banks  of  the  Seine 
at  Bougival,  he  had  been  still  more  noticed.  It  is  usual 
to  pay  a  toll  on  crossing  this  bridge  ;  and  the  supposed 
assassin  had  apparently  forgotten  this  circumstance.  He 
passed  without  paying,  keeping  up  his  rapid  pace,  pressing 


278  7 '///•:  l.l-.KOUCE  CASK. 

his  elbows  to  his  side,  husbanding  his  breath,  and  the 
gatekeeper  was  obliged  to  run  after  him  for  his  toll.  He 
seemed  greatly  annoyed  at  the  circumstance,  threw  the 
man  a  ten  sou  piece,  and  hurried  on,  without  waiting  for 
the  nine  sous  change.  Nor  was  that  all.  The  station 
master  at  Rueil  remembered,  that,  two  minutes  before  the 
quarter  past  ten  train  came  up,  a  passenger  arrived  very 
agitated,  and  so  out  of  breath  that  he  could  scarcely  ask 
for  a  second  class  ticket  for  Paris.  The  appearance  of 
this  man  corresponded  exactly  with  the  description  given  of 
him  by  the  porters  at  Chatou,  and  by  the  gatekeeper  at  the 
bridge.  Finally,  the  old  man  thoo.ig.ht  he  was  on  the  track 
of  some  one  who  entered  the  same  carriage  as  the  breath- 
less passenger.  He  had  been  told  of  a  baker  living  at 
Asnieres,  and  he  had  written  to  him,  asking  him  to  call  at 
his  house. 

Such  was  old  Tabaret's  information,  when  on  the  Mon- 
day morning  he  called  at  the  Palais  de  Justice,  in  order  to 
find  out  if  the  record  of  Widow  Lerouge's  past  life  had 
been  received.  He  found  that  nothing  had  arrived,  but 
in  the  passage  he  met  Gevrol  and  his  man.  The  chief  of 
detectives  was  triumphant,  and  showed  it  too.  As  soon  as 
he  saw  Tabaret,  he  called  out;  "  Well,  my  illustrious 
mare's-nest  hunter,  what  news  ?  Have  you  had  any  more 
scoundrels  guillotined  since  the  other  day  ?  Ah,  you  old 
rogue,  you  want  to  oust  me  from  my  place  I  can  see  ! " 

The  old  man  was  sadly  changed.  The  consciousness  of 
his  mistake  made  him  humble  and  meek.  These  pleasan- 
tries, which  a  few  days  before  would  have  made  him  angry, 
now  did  not  touch  him.  Instead  of  retaliating,  he  bowed 
his  head  in  such  a  penitent  manner  that  Gevrol  was  aston- 
ished. "  Jeer  at  me,  my  good  M.  Gevrol,"  he  replied, 
"  mock  me  without  pity  ;  you  are  right,  I  deserve  it  all." 

"  Ah,  come  now,"  said  the  chief,  "  have  you  then  per- 
formed some  new  masterpiece,  you  impetuous  old  fellow  ?  " 

Old  Tabaret  shook  his  head  sadly.  "  I  have  delivered 
up  an  innocent  man,"  he  said,  "  and  justice  will  not  re- 
store him  his  freedom." 

Gevrol  was  delighted,  and  rubbed  his  hands  until  he 
almost  wore  away  the  skin.  "  This  is  fine,"  he  sang  out, 
"  this  is  capital.  To  bring  criminals  to  justice  is  of  no 
account  at  all.  But  to  free  the  innocent,  by  Jove  !  that  is 
the  last  touch  of  art.  Tirauclair,  you  are  an  immense 


THE  LRROUGE  CASE.  279 

wonder  ;  and  I  bow  before  you."  And  at  the  same  time, 
he  raised  his  hat  ironically. 

"Don't  crush  me,"  replied  the  old  fellow.  "As  you 
know,  in  spite  of  my  grey  hairs,  I  am  young  in  the  profes- 
sion. Because  chance  served  me  three  or  four  times,  I 
became  foolishly  proud.  I  have  learned  too  late  that  I 
am  not  all  that  I  had  thought  myself  ;  I  am  but  an  ap- 
prentice, and  success  has  turned  my  head  ;  while  you,  M. 
Gevrol,  you  are  the  master  of  all  of  us.  Instead  of  laugh- 
ing, pray  help  me,  aid  me  with  your  advice  and  your 
experience.  Alone,  I  can  do  nothing,  while  with  your 
assistance — !  " 

Gevrol  is  vain  in  the  highest  degree.  Tabaret's  sub- 
mission tickled  his  pretensions  as  a  detective  immensely  ; 
for  in  reality  he  thought  the  old  man  very  clever.  He 
was  softened.  "  I  suppose,"  he  said  patronisingly,  "  you 
refer  to  the  La  Jonchere  affair  ?  " 

"  Alas  !  yes,  my  dear  M.  Gevrol,  I  wished  to  work  without 
you,  and  I  have  got  myself  into  a  pretty  mess." 

Cunning  old  Tabaret  kept  his  countenance  as  penitent 
as  that  of  a  sacristan  caught  eating  meat  on  a  Friday  ;  but 
he  was  inwardly  laughing  and  rejoicing  all  the  while. 
"  Conceited  fool  ! "  he  thought,  "  I  will  flatter  you  so 
much  that  you  will  end  by  doing  everything  I  want." 

M.  Gevrol  rubbed  his  nose,  put  out  his  lower  lip,  and 
said,  "  Ah, — hem  !  "  He  pretended  to  hesitate  ;  but  it 
was  only  because  he  enjoyed  prolonging  the  old  amateur's 
discomfiture.  "  Come,"  said  he  at  last,  "  cheer  up,  old 
Tirauclair.  I'm  a  good  fellow  at  heart,  and  I'll  give  you  a 
lift.  That's  kind,  isn't  it?  But,  to-day,  I'm  too  busy,  I've 
an  appointment  to  keep.  Come  to  me  to-morrow  morning, 
and  we'll  talk  it  over.  But  before  we  part  I'll  give  you  a 
light  to  find  your  way  with.  Do  you  know  who  that  wit- 
ness is  that  I've  brought?" 

"  No ;  but  tell  me,  my  good  M.  Gevrol." 

"  Well,  that  fellow  on  the  bench  there,  who  is  waiting 
for  M.  Daburon,  is  the  husband  of  the  victim  of  the  La 
Jonchere  tragedy ! " 

l-  Is  it  possible  ? "  exclaimed  old  Tabaret,  perfectly 
astounded.  Then,  after  reflecting  a  moment,  he  added : 
"  You  are  joking  with  me." 

"  No,  upon  my  word.  Go  and  ask  him  his  name ;  he 
will  tell  you  that  it  is  Pierre  Lerouge." 


2So  THE  LEKOUGE  CASE. 

"  She  wasn't  a  widow  then  ?  " 

"It  appears  not,"  replied  Gevrol  sarcastically,  "since 
there  is  her  happy  spouse." 

"Whew!"  muttered  the  old  fellow.  "And  docs  he 
know  anything  ?  " 

In  a  few  sentences,  the  chief  of  detectives  related  to 
his  amateur  colleague  the  story  that  Lerouge  was  about  to 
tell  the  investigating  magistrate.  "  What  do  you  say  to 
that  ?  "  he  asked  when  he  came  to  the  end. 

"  What  do  I  say  to  that  ? "  stammered  old  Tabaret, 
whose  countenance  indicated  intense  astonishment , 
"  what  do  I  say  to  that  ?  I  don't  say  anything.  But  I 
think, — no,  I  don't  think  anything  either  !  " 

"  A  slight  surprise,  eh  ? "  said  Gevrol,  beaming. 

"  Say  rather  an  immense  one,"  replied  Tabaret. 

But  suddenly  he  started,  and  gave  his  forehead  a  hard 
blow  with  his  fist.  "  And  my  baker !  "  he  cried,  "  I  will 
see  you  to-morrow,  then,  M.  Gevrol." 

"  He  is  crazed,"  thought  the  head  detective. 

The  old  fellow  was  sane  enough,  but  he  had  suddenly 
recollected  the  Asnieres  baker,  whom  he  had  asked  to 
call  at  his  house.  Would  he  still  find  him  there  ?  Going 
down  stairs  he  met  M.  Daburon ;  but,  as  one  has  already 
seen,  he  hardly  deigned  to  reply  to  hin.  He  was  soon 
outside,  and  trotted  off  along  the  quays.  "  Now,"  said 
he  to  himself,  "  let  us  consider.  Noel  is  once  more  plain 
Noel  Gerdy.  He  won't  feel  very  pleased,  for  he  thought 
so  much  of  having  a  great  name.  Pshaw  !  if  he  likes,  I'll 
adopt  him.  Tabaret  doesn't  sound  so  well  as  Commarin, 
but  it's  at  least  a  name.  Anyhow,  Gevrol's  story  in  no 
way  affects  Albert's  situation  nor  my  convictions.  He  is 
the  legitimate  son  ;  so  much  the  better  for  him  !  That 
however,  would  not  prove  his  innocence  to  me,  if  I 
doubted  it.  He  evidently  knew  nothing  of  these  surpris- 
ing circumstances,  any  more  than  his  father.  He  must 
have  believed  as  well  as  the  count  in  the  substitution 
having  taken  place.  Madame  Gerdy,  too,  must  have 
been  ignorant  of  these  facts ;  they  probably  invented 
some  story  to  explain  the  scar.  Yes,  but  Madame  Gerdy 
certainly  knew  that  Noel  was  really  her  son,  for  when  he 
was  returned  to  her,  she  no  doubt  looked  for  the  mark 
she  had  made  on  him.  Then,  when  Noel  discovered  the 


THE  LEKOUGK  CASE.  281 

count's  letters,  she  must  have  hastened  to  explain  to 
him—" 

Old  Tabaret  stopped  as  suddenly  as  if  further  progress 
were  obstructed  by  some  dangerous  reptile.  He  was 
terrified  at  the  conclusion  he  had  reached.  "  Noel,  then, 
must  have  assassinated  Widow  Lerouge,  to  prevent  her 
confessing  that  the  substitution  had  never  taken  place, 
and  have  burnt  the  letters  and  papers  which  proved  it !  " 

But  he  repelled  this  supposition  with  horror,  as  every 
honest  man  drives  away  a  detestable  thought  which  by 
accident  enters  his  mind.  "  What  an  old  idiot  I  am  !  " 
he  exclaimed,  resuming  his  walk  ;  "  this  is  the  result  of 
the  horrible  profession  I  once  gloried  in  following !  Sus- 
pect Noel,  my  boy,  my  sole  heir,  the  personification  of 
virtue  and  honor !  Noel,  whom  ten  years  of  constant 
intercourse  have  taught  me  to  esteem  and  admire  to  such 
a  de'gree  that  I  would  speak  for  him  as  I  would  for  my- 
self !  Men  of  his  class  must  indeed  be  moved  by  terrible 
passions  to  cause  them  to  shed  blood ;  and  I  have  always 
known  Noel  to  have  but  two  passions,  his  mother  and 
his  profession.  And  I  dare  even  to  breath  a  suspicion 
against  this  noble  soul?  I  ought  "to  be  whipped!  Old 
fool !  isn't  the  lesson  you  have  already  received  sufficient- 
ly terrible  ?  Will  you  never  be  more  cautious  ?  " 

Thus  he  reasoned,  trying  to  dismiss  his  disquieting 
thoughts,  and  restraining  his  habits  of  investigation ; 
but  in  his  heart  a  tormenting  voice  constantly  whispered, 
"  Suppose  it  is  Noel."  He  at  length  reached  the  Rue 
St.  Lazare.  Before  the  door  of  his  house  stood  a  mag- 
nificent horse  harnessed  to  an  elegant  blue  brougham. 
At  the  sight  of  these  he  stopped.  "  A  handsome  animal !  " 
he  said  to  himself ;  "  my  tenants  receive  some  swell 
people." 

They  apparently  received  visitors  of  an  opposite  class 
also,  for,  at  that  moment,  he  saw  M.  Clergeot  came  out, 
worthy  M.  Clergeot,  whose  presence  in  a  house  betrayed 
ruin  just  as  surely  as  the  presence  of  the  undertakers 
announce  a  death.  The  old  detective,  who  knew  every- 
body, was  well  acquainted  with  the  worthy  banker.  He 
had  even  done  business  with  him  once,  when  collecting 
books.  He  stopped  him  and  said  :  "  Halloa  !  you  old 
crocodile,  you  have  clients,  then,  in  my  house  ?  " 


2S2  77JE  LEROUGE  CASE. 

"  So  it  seems,"  replied  Clergeot  drily,  for  he  does  not 
like  being  treated  with  such  familiarity. 

"  Ah  !  ah  !  "  said  old  Tabaret.  And,  prompted  by 
the  very  natural  curiosity  of  a  landlord  who  is  bound  to 
be  very  careful  about  the  financial  condition  of  his 
tenants,  he  added  ;  "  Who  the  deuce  are  you  ruining 
now?" 

"  I  am  ruining  no  one,"  replied  M.  Clergeot,  with  an 
afr  of  offended  dignity.  "  Have  you  ever  had  reason  to  com- 
plain of  me  whenever  we  have  done  business  together  ?  I 
think  rfot.  Mention  me  to  the  young  barrister  up  there, 
if  you  like  ;  he  will  tell  you  whether  he  has  reason  to 
regret  knowing  me." 

These  words  produced  a  painful  impression  on  Tabaret. 
What,  Noel,  the  prudent  Noel,  one  of  Clergeot's  cus- 
tomers !  What  did  it  mean  ?  Perhaps  there  was  no 
harm  in  it ;  but  then  he  remembered  the  fifteen  thousand 
francs  he  had  lent  Noel  on  the  Thursday.  "Yes,"  said 
he,  wishing  to  obtain  some  more  information,  "  I  know 
tbat  M.  Gerdy  spends  a  pretty  round  sum." 

Clergeot  has  the  delicacy  never  to  leave  his  clients 
undefended  when  attacked.  "  It  isn't  he  personally,"  he 
objected,  "  who  makes  the  money  dance  ;  its  that  charm- 
ing little  woman  of  his.  Ah,  she's  no  bigger  than 
your  thumb,  but  she'd  eat  the  devil,  hoofs,  horns,  ar.d 
all ! " 

What !  Noel  had  a  mistress,  a  woman  whom  Clergeot 
himself,  the  friend  of  such  creatures,  considered  expen- 
sive !  The  revelation,  at  such  a  moment,  pierced  the 
old  man's  heart.  But  he  dissembled.  A  gesture,  a  look, 
might  awaken  the  usurer's  mistrust,  and  close  his  mouth. 
"  That's  well  known,"  replied  Tabaret  in  a  careless  tone. 
"  Youth  must  have  it's  day.  But  what  do  you  suppose 
the  wench  costs  him  a  year  ? " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know !  He  made  the  mistake  of  not 
fixing  a  price  with  her.  Accordingly  to  my  calculation, 
she  must  have,  during  the  four  years  that  she  has  been 
under  his  protection,  cost  him  close  upon  five  hundred 
thousand  francs." 

Four  years!  Five  hundred  thousand  '  francs  !  These 
words,  these  figures,  burst  like  bombshells  on  old 
Tabaret's  brain.  Half  a  million  !  In  that  case,  Noel 
was  utterly  ruined.  But  then —  "  It  is  a  great  deal," 


THE  LE ROUGE  CASE.  283 

said  he,  succeeding  by  desperate  efforts  in  hiding  his 
emotion ;  "  it  is  enormous.  M.  Gerdy,  however,  has 
resources." 

"  He  !  "  interrupted  the  usurer,  shrugging  his  shoulders. 
"  Not  even  that  !  "  he  added,  snapping  his  ringers ; 
"  He  is  utterly  cleared  out.  But,  if  he  owes  you  money, 
do  not  be  anxious.  He  is  a  sly  dog.  He  is  going  to  be 
married  ;  and  I  have  just  renewed  bills  of  his  for  twenty- 
six  thousand  francs.  Good-bye,  M.  Tabaret." 

The  usurer  hurried  away,  leaving  the  poor  old  fellow 
standing  like  a  milestone  in  the  middle  of  the  pavement. 
He  experienced  something  of  that  terrible  grief  which 
breaks  a  father's  heart,  when  he  begins  to  realize  that 
his  dearly  loved  son  is  perhaps  the  worst  of  scoundrels. 
And,  yet,  such  was  his  confidence  in  Noel  that  he  again 
struggled  with  his  reason  to  resist  the  suspicions  which 
tormented  him.  Perhaps  the  usurer  had  been  slandering 
his  friend.  People  who  lend  their  money  at  more  than 
ten  per  cent  are  capable  of  anything.  Evidently  he  had 
exaggerated  the  extent  of  Noel's  follies.  And,  supposing 
it  were  true  ?  Have  not  many  men  done  just  such  in- 
sane things  for  women,  without  ceasing  to  be  honest  ? 

As  he  was  about  to  enter  his  house,  a  whirlwind  of  silk, 
lace,  and  velvet  stopped  the  way.  A  pretty  young  brunette 
came  out  and  jumped  as  lightly  as  a  bird  into  the  blue 
brougham.  Old  Tabaret  was  a  gallant  man,  and  the  young 
woman  was  most  charming,  but  he  never  even  looked  at 
her.  He  passed  in,  and  found  his  concierge  standing,  cap 
in  hand,  and  tenderly  examining  a  twenty  franc  piece. 

"  Ah,  sir,"  said  the  man,  "  such  a  pretty  young  person, 
and  so  lady-like  !  If  you  had  only  been  here  five  minutes 
sooner." 

"  What  lady  ?  why  ?  " 

"  That  elegant  lady,  who  just  went  out,  sir ;  she  came  to 
make  some  inquiries  about  M.  Gerdy.  She  gave  me  twenty 
francs  for  answering  her  questions.  It  seems  that  the 
gentleman  is  going  to  be  married  ;  and  she  was  evidently 
much  annoyed  about  it.  Superb  creature  !  I  have  an  idea 
that  she  is  his  mistress.  I  know  now  why  he  goes  out 
every  night." 

"  M.  Gerdy  ? " 

"  Yes,  sir,  but  I  never  mentioned  it  to  you,  because  he 
seemed  to  wish  to  hide  it.  He  never  asks  me  to  open  the 


:S4  T/IE  LEROUGE  CASE. 

door  for  him,  no,  not  he.  He  slips  out  by  the  little  stable 
door.  I  have  often  said  to  myself,  '  Perhaps  he  doesn't 
\v;mt  to  disturb  me  ;  it  is  very  thoughtful  on  his  part,  and 
he  seems  to  enjoy  it  so.'  " 

The  concierge  spoke  with  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  gold  piece. 
When  he  raised" his  head  to  examine  the  countenance  of  his 
lord  and  master,  old  Tabaret  had  disappeared. 

"  There's  another  !  "  said  the  concierge  to  himself.  "  I'll 
bet  a  hundred  sous,  that  he's  running  after  the  superb 
creature  !  Run  ahead,  go  it,  old  dotard,  you  shall  have  a 
little  bit,  but  not  much,  for  it's  very  expensive  ! ''"  The 
concierge  was  right.  Old  Tabaret  was  running  after  the 
lady  in  the  blue  brougham.  "  She  will  tell  me  all,"  he 
thought,  and  with  a  bound  he  was  in  the  street.  He  reached 
it  just  in  time  to  see  the  blue  brougham  turn  the  corner  of 
the  Rue  St.  Lazare.  "  Heavens  !  "  he  murmured.  "  I 
shall  lose  sight  of  her,  and  yet  she  can  tell  me  the  truth." 
He  was  in  one  of  those  states  of  nervous  excitement  which 
engender  prodigies.  He  ran  to  the  end  of  the  Rue  St. 
Lazare  as  rapidly  as  if  he  had  been  a  young  man  of  twenty. 
Joy  !  He  saw  the  blue  brougham  a  short  distance  from 
him  in  the  Rue  du  Havre,  stopped  in  the  midst  of  a  block 
of  carriages.  "  I  have  her,"  said  he  to  himself.  He  looked 
all  about  him,  but  there  was  not  an  empty  cab  to  be  seen. 
Gladly  would  he  have  cried,  like  Richard  the  III.,  "My 
kingdom  for  a  cab!"  The  brougham  got  out  of  the 
entanglement,  and  started  off  rapidly  towards  the  Rue 
Tronchet.  The  old  fellow  followed.  He  kept  his  ground. 
The  brougham  gained  but  little  upon  him.  While  running 
in  the  middle  of  the  street,  at  the  same  time  looking  out 
for  a  cab,  he  kept  saying  to  himself  :  "  Hurry  on,  old  fellow, 
hurry  on.  When  one  has  no  brains,  one  must  use  one's 
legs.  Why  didn't  you  think  to  get  this  woman's  address 
from  Clergeot  ?  You  must  hurry  yourself,  my  old  friend, 
you  must  hurry  yourself  !  When  one  goes  in  for  being  a 
detective,  one  should  be  fit  for  the  profession,  and  have  the 
shanks  of  a  deer." 

But  he  was  losing  ground,  plainly  losing  ground.  He 
was  only  halfway  down  the  Rue  Tronchet,  and  quite  tired 
out ;  he  felt  that  his  legs  could  not  carry  him  a  hundred 
steps  farther,  and  the  brougham  had  almost  reached  the 
Madeleine.  At  last  an  open  cab,  going  in  the  same 
direction  as  himself,  passed  by.  He  made  a  sign,  more 


7 HE  LE ROUGE  CASE.  285 

despairing  than  any  drowning  man  ever  made.  The  sign 
was  seen.  He  made  a  supreme  effort,  and  with  a  bound 
jumped  into  the  vehicle  without  touching  the  step.  "  There," 
he  gasped,  "  that  blue  brougham,  twenty  francs  ! " 

"  All  right  !  "  replied  the  coachman,  nodding. 

And  he  covered  his  ill-conditioned  horse  with  vigorous 
blows,  muttering,  "  A  jealous  husband  following  his  wife  ; 
that's  evident.  Gee  up  !  " 

As  for  old  Tabaret,  he  was  a  long  time  recovering  him- 
self, his  strength  was  almost  exhausted.  For  more  than  a 
minute,  he  could  not  catch  his  breath.  They  were  soon  on 
the  Boulevards.  He  stood  up  in  the  cab  leaning  against 
the  driver's  seat.  "  I  don't  see  the  brougham  anywhere," 
he  said. 

"  Oh,  I  see  it  all  right,  sir.  But  it  is  drawn  by  a  splendid 
horse  !  " 

"  Yours  ought  to  be  a  better  one.  I  said  twenty  francs  ; 
I'll  make  it  forty." 

The  driver  whipped  up  his  horse  most  mercilessly,  and 
growled.  "  It's  no  use,  I  must  catch  her.  For  twenty 
francs,  I  would  have  let  her  escape  ;  for  I  love  the  girls, 
and  am  on  their  side.  But,  fancy  !  Forty  francs !  I 
wonder  how  such  an  ugly  man  can  be  so  jealous." 

Old  Tabaret  tried  in  every  way  to  occupy  his  mind  with 
other  matters.  He  did  not  wish  to  reflect  before  seeing  the 
woman,  speaking  with  her,  and  carefully  questioning  her. 
He  was  sure  that  by  one  word  she  would  either  condemn 
or  save  her  lover.  "  What !  condemn  Noel  ?  Ah,  well  ! 
yes."  The  idea  that  Noel  was  the  assassin  harassed  and 
tormented  him,  and  buzzed  in  his  brain,  like  the  moth  which 
flies  again  and  again  against  the  window  where  it  sees  a 
light. 

As  they  passed  the  Chaussee  d'Antin,  the  brougham  was 
scarcely  thirty  paces  in  advance.  The  cab  driver  turned, 
and  said  :  "  The  brougham  is  stopping." 

"Then  stop  also.  Don't  lose  sight  of  it;  but  be  ready 
to  follow  it  again  as  soon  as  it  goes  off." 

Old  Tabaret  leaned  as  far  as  he  could  out  of  the  cab. 
The  young  woman  alighted,  crossed  the  pavement,  and 
entered  a  shop  where  cashmeres  and  laces  were  sold. 
"  There,"  thought  the  old  fellow,  "  is  where  the  thousand 
franc  notes  go  !  Half  a  million  in  four  years  !  What  can 
these  creatures  do  with  the  money  so  lavishly  bestowed 


286  THE  LEROUGE  CASE. 

upon  them  ?  Do  they  eat  it  ?  On  the  altar  of  what  caprices 
do  they  squander  these  fortunes  ?  They  must  have  the 
devil's  own  potions  which  they  give  to  drink  to  the  idiots 
who  ruin  themselves  for  them.  They  must  possess  some 
peculiar  art  of  preparing  and  spicing  pleasure  ;  since,  once 
they  get  hold  of  a  man,  he  sacrifices  everything  before 
forsaking  them." 

The  cab  moved  on  once  more,  but  soon  stopped  again. 
The  brougham  had  made  a  fresh  pause,  this  time  in  front 
of  a  curiosity  shop.  "  The  woman  wants  then  to  buy  all 
Paris  !  "  said  old  Tabaret  to  himself  in  a  passion.  "  Yes, 
if  Noel  committed  the  crime,  it  was  she  who  forced  him  to 
it.  These  are  my  fifteen  thousand  francs  that  she  is  fritter- 
ing away  now.  How  long  will  they  last  her  ?  It  must  have 
been  for  money,  then,  that  Noel  murdered  Widow  Lerouge. 
If  so,  he  is  the  lowest,  the  most  infamous  of  men  !  What 
a  monster  of  dissimulation  and  hypocrisy  !  And  to  think 
that  he  would  be  my  heir,  if  I  should  die  here  of  rage ! 
For  it  is  written  in  my  will  in  so  many  words,  '  I  bequeath 
to  my  son,  Noel  Gerdy ! '  If  he  is  guilty,  there  isn't  a 
punishment  sufficiently  severe  for  him.  But  is  this  woman 
never  going  home  ?  " 

The  woman  was  in  no  hurry.  The  weather  was  charm- 
ing, her  dress  irresistible,  and  she  intended  showing  her- 
self off.  She  visited  three  or  four  more  shops,  and  at  last 
stopped  at  a  confectioner's,  where  she  remained  for  more 
than  a  quarter  of  an  hour.  The  old  fellow,  devoured  by 
anxiety,  moved  about  and  stamped  in  his  cab.  It  was 
torture  thus  to  be  kept  from  the  key  to  a  terrible  enigma 
by  the  caprice  of  a  worthless  hussy !  He  was  dying  to 
rush  after  her,  to  seize  her  by  the  arm,  and  cry  out  to  her : 
"  Home,  wretched,  creature,  home  at  once  !  What  are  you 
doing  here  ?  Don't  you  know  that  at  this  moment  your 
lover,  he  whom  you  have  ruined,  is  suspected  of  an  assas- 
sination ?  Home,  then,  that  I  may  question  you,  that  I 
may  learn  from  you  whether  he  is  innocent  or  guilty. 
For  you  will  tell  me,  without  knowing  it.  Ah !  I  have 
prepared  a  fine  trap  for  you  !  Go  home,  then,  this  anx- 
iety is  killing  me  !  " 

She  returned  to  her  carnage.  It  started  off  once  more, 
passed  up  the  Rue  de  Faubourg  Montmartre,  turned  into 
the  Rue  de  Provence,  deposited  its  fair  freight  at  her  own 


THE  LEKOL'GE  CASE.  387 

door,  and  drove  away.  "  She  lives  here,"  said  old  Tab- 
aret,  with  a  sigh  of  relief. 

He  got  out  of  the  cab,  gave  the  driver  his  forty  francs, 
bade  him  wait,  and  followed  in  the  young  woman's  foot- 
steps. 

"The  old  fellow  is  patient,"  thought  the  driver;  "and 
the  little  brunette  is  caught." 

The  detective  opened  the  door  of  the  concierge's  lodge. 
"  What  is  the  name  of  the  lady  who  just  came  in  ? '"  he 
demanded. 

The  concierge  did  not  seem  disposed  to  reply. 

"  Her  name  !  "  insisted  the  old  man. 

The  tone  was  so  sharp,  so  imperative,  that  the  concierge 
was  upset.  "  Madame  Juliette  Chaffour,"  he  answered. 

"  On  what  floor  does  she  reside  ?  " 

"  On  the  second,  the  door  opposite  the  stairs." 

A  minute  later,  the  old  man  was  waiting  in  Madame 
Juliette's  drawing-room.  Madame  was  dressing,  the  maid 
informed  him,  and  would  be  down  directly.  Tabaret  was 
astonished  at  the  luxury  of  the  room.  There  was  noth- 
ing flaring  or  coarse,  or  in  bad  taste.  It  was  not  at  all 
like  the  apartment  of  a  kept  woman.  The  old  fellow,  who 
knew  a  good  deal  about  such  things,  saw  that  everything 
was  of  great  value.  The  ornaments  on  the  mantelpiece 
alone  must  have  cost,  at  the  lowest  estimate,  twenty  thou- 
sand francs.  "  Clergeot,"  thought  he,  "  didn't  exaggerate 
*  bit." 

Juliette's  entrance  disturbed  his  reflections.  She  had 
faken  off  her  dress,  and  had  hastily  thrown  about  her  a 
loose  black  dressing-gown,  trimmed  with  cherry-coloured 
.satin.  Her  beautiful  hair,  slightly  disordered  after  her 
drive,  fell  in  cascades  about  her  neck,  and  curled  behind 
her  delicate  ears.  She  dazzled  Old  Tabaret.  He  began 
to  understand. 

"  You  wished,  sir,  to  speak  with  me  ? "  she  inquired, 
bowing  gracefully. 

;'  Madame,"  replied  M.  Tabaret,  "  I  am  a  friend  of 
Noel  Gerdy's,  I  may  say  his  best  friend,  and — " 

<;  Pray  sit  down,  sir,"  interrupted  the  young  woman. 

She  placed  herself  on  a  sofa,  just  showing  the  tips  of  her 
Httle  feet  encased  in  slippers  matching  her  dressing-gown, 
while  the  old  man  sat  down  in  a  chair.  "  I  come,  madame," 


288  THE  I.KKu:'(,h   CASE. 

he  resumed,  "  on  very  serious  business.  Your  presence 
at  M.  Gerdy's— " 

"Ah,"  cried  Juliette,  "he  already  knows  of  my  visit? 
Then  he  must  employ  a  detective." 

"  My  dear  child — "  began  Tabaret,  paternally. 

"  Oh  !  I  know,  sir,  what  your  errand  is.  Noel  has  sent 
you  here  to  scold  me.  He  forbade  my  going  to  his  house, 
but  I  couldn't  help  it.  It's  annoying  to  have  a  puzzle 
for  a  lover,  a  man  whom  one  knows  nothing  whatever 
about,  a  riddle  in  a  black  coat  and  a  white  cravat,  a  sad 
and  mysterious  being — " 

"  You  have  been  imprudent." 

"  Why  ?  Because  he  is  going  to  get  married  ?  Why 
does  he  not  admit  it  then? " 

"  Suppose  that  it  is  not  true." 

"  Oh,  but  it  is !  He  told  that  old  shark  Clergeot  so 
who  repeated  it  to  me.  Any  way,  he  must  be  plotting 
something  in  that  head  of  his ;  for  the  last  month  he  has 
been  so  peculiar,  he  has  changed  so,  that  I  hardly  recog- 
nize him." 

Old  Tabaret  was  especially  anxious  to  know  whether 
Noel  had  prepared  an  alibi  for  the  evening  of  the  crime. 
For  him  that  was  the  grand  question.  If  he  had,  he  was 
certainly  guilty ;  if  not,  he  might  still  be  innocent.  Mad- 
ame Juliette,  he  had  no  doubt,  could  enlighten  him  on  that 
point.  Consequently  he  had  presented  himself  with  his 
lesson  all  prepared,  his  little  trap  all  set. 

The  young  woman's  outburst  disconcerted  him  a  little  ; 
but  trusting  to  the  chances  of  conversation,  he  resumed. 
"Will  you  oppose  Noel's  marriage,  then  ?  " 

"  His  marriage  ! "  cried  Juliette,  bursting  out  into  a 
laugh  ;  "  ah,  the  poor  boy  !  If  he  meets  no  worse  obsta- 
cle than  myself,  his  path  will  be  smooth.  Let  him  marry 
by  all  means,  the  sooner  the  better,  and  let  me  hear  no 
more  of  him." 

"  You  don't  love  him,  then  ?  "  asked  the  old  fellow,  sur- 
prised at  this  amiable  frankness. 

"  Listen,  sir.  I  have  loved  him  a  great  deal,  but  every- 
thing has  an  end.  For  four  years,  I,  who  am  so  fond  of 
pleasure,  have  passed  an  intolerable  existence.  If  Noel 
doesn't  leave  me,  I  shall  be  obliged  to  leave  him.  I  am 
tired  of  having  a  lover  who  is  ashamed  of  me  and  who 
despises  me." 


THE  LEROUGE  CASE.  289 

'*  If  he  despises  you,  my  pretty  lady,  he  scarcely  shows 
it  here,"  replied  old  Tabaret,  casting  a  significant  glance 
about  the  room. 

"  You  mean,"  said  she  rising,  "  that  he  spends  a  great 
deal  of  money  on  me.  It's  true.  He  pretends  that  he 
has  ruined  himself  on  my  account ;  it's  very  possible. 
But  what's  that  to  me  !  I  am  not  a  grabbing  woman  ;  and 
I  would  much  have  preferred  less  money  and  more  regard. 
My  extravagance  has  been  inspired  by  anger  and  want  of 
occupation.  M.  Gerdy  treats  me  like  a  mercenary  woman  ; 
and  so  I  act  like  one.  We  are  quits." 

"  You  know  very  well  that  he  worships  you." 
"  He  ?  I  tell  you  he  is  ashamed  of  me.  He  hides  me 
as  though  I  were  some  horrible  disease.  You  are  the 
first  of  his  friends  to  whom  I  have  ever  spoken.  Ask  him 
how  often  he  takes  me  out.  One  would  think  that  my 
presence  dishonoured  him.  Why,  no  longer  ago  than  last 
Tuesday,  we  went  to  the  theatre!  He  hired  an  entire  box. 
But  do  you  think  that  he  sat  in  it  with  me  ?  Not  at  all. 
He  slipped  away  and  I  saw  no  more  of  him  the  whole 
evening." 

"  How  so  ?  Were  you  obliged  to  return  home  alone  ?  " 
"No.  At  the  end  of  the  play,  towards  midnight,  he 
deigned  to  reappear.  We  had  arranged  to  go  to  the 
masked  ball  at  the  Opera  and  then  to  have  some  supper. 
Ah,  it  was  amusing  !  At  the  ball,  he  didn't  dare  to  let 
down  his  hood,  or  take  off  his  mask.  At  supper,  I  had  to 
treat  him  like  a  perfect  stranger,  because  some  of  his 
friends  were  present." 

This,  then,  was  the  alibi  prepared  in  case  of  trouble. 
Juliette,  had  she  been  less  carried  away  by  her  own  feel- 
ings, would  have  noticed  old  Tabaret's  emotion,  and  would 
certainly  have  held  her  tongue.  He  was  perfectly  livid, 
and  trembled  like  a  leaf. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  making  a  great  effort  to  utter  the  words, 
"  the  supper,  I  suppose,  was  none  the  less  gay  for  that." 

"Gay!"  echoed  the  young  woman,  shrugging  her 
shoulders  ; "  you  do  not  seem  to  know  much  of  your  friend. 
If  you  ever  ask  him  to  dinner,  take  good  care  not  to  give 
him  anything  to  drink.  Wine  makes  him  as  merry  as  a 
funeral  procession.  At  the  second  bottle,  he  was  more 
tipsy  than  a  cork  ;  so  much  so,  that  he  lost  nearly  every- 
19 


290  THE  LE ROUGE  CASE. 

thing  he  had  with  him  :  his  overcoat,  purse,  umbrella,  ci- 
gar-en M 

Old  Tabaret  couldn't  sit  and  listen  any  longer ;  he 
jumped  to  his  feet  like  a  raving  madman.  "  Miserable 
wretch  !  "  he  cried,  "  infamous  scoundrel !  It  is  he  ;  but  I 
have  him  !  " 

And  he  rushed  out,  leaving  Juliette  so  terrified  that  she 
called  her  maid. 

"  Child,"  said  she, "  I  have  just  made  some  awrul  blun- 
der, have  let  some  secret  out.  I  am  sure  that  something 
dreadful  is  going  to  happen  ;  I  feel  it.  That  old  rogue 
was  no  friend  of  Noel's,  he  came  to  circumvent  me,  to  lead 
me  by  the  nose ;  and  he  succeeded.  Without  knowing  it 
I  must  have  spoken  against  Noel.  What  can  I  have  said  > 
I  have  thought  carefully,  and  can  remember  nothing  ;  but 
he  must  be  warned  though.  I  will  write  him  a  line,  while 
you  find  a  messenger  to  take  it." 

Old  Tabaret  was  soon  in  his  cab  and  hurrying  towards 
the  Prefecture  of  Police.  Noel  an  assassin  !  His  hate 
was  without  bounds,  as  formerly  had  been  his  confiding 
affection.  He  had  been  cruelly  deceived,  unworthily 
duped,  by  the  vilest  and  the  most  criminal  of  men.  He 
thirsted  for  vengeance  ;  he  asked  himself  what  punishment 
would  be  great  enough  for  the  crime. 

"  For  he  not  only  assassinated  Claudine,"  thought  he, 
*'  but  he  so  arranged  the  whole  thing  as  to  have  an  inno- 
cent man  accused  and  condemned.  And  who  can  say 
that  he  did  not  kill  his  poor  mother  ?  " 

He  regretted  the  abolition  of  torture,  the  refined  cruelty 
of  the  middle  ages  :  quartering,  the  stake,  the  wheel.  The 
guillotine  acts  so  quickly  that  the  condemned  man  has 
scarcely  time  to  feel  the  cold  steel  cutting  through  his 
muscles  it  is  nothing  more  than  a  fillip  on  the  neck. 
Through  trying  so  much  to  mitigate  the  pain  of  death,  it 
has  now  become  little  more  than  a  joke,  and  might  be 
abolished  altogether.  The  certainty  of  confounding  Noel, 
of  delivering  him  up  to  justice,  of  taking  vengeance  upon 
him,  alone  kept  old  Tabaret  up. 

"  It  is  clear,"  he  murmured,  "  that  the  wretch  forgot  his 
things  at  the  railway  station,  in  his  haste  to  rejoin  his  mis* 
tress.  Will  they  still  be  found  there  ?  If  he  has  had  the 
prudence  to  go  boldly,  and  ask  for  them  under  a  false 
name,  I  can  see  no  further  proofs  against  him.  Madame 


THE  LE ROUGE  CASE.  291 

Chaffour's  evidence  won't  help  me.  The  hussy,  seeing  her 
lover  in  danger,  will  deny  what  she  has  just  told  me  :  she 
will  assert  that  Noel  left  her  long  after  ten  o'clock.  But  1 
cannot  think  he  has  dared  to  go  to  the  railway  station 
again. 

About  half  way  down  the  Rue  NRichelieu,  M.  Tabaret 
was  seized  with  a  sudden  giddiness.  "  I  am  going  to  have 
an  attack,  I  fear,"  thought  he.  "  If  I  die,  Noel  will  escape, 
and  will  be  my  heir.  A  man  should  always  keep  his  will 
constantly  with  him,  to  be  able  to  destroy  it,  if  neces- 
sary." 

A  few  steps  further  on.  he  saw  a  doctor's  plate  on  a 
door  ;  he  stopped  the  cab,  and  rushed  into  the  house.     He 
was  so  excited,  so  beside  himself,  his  eyes  had  such  a  wild 
expression,  that  the  doctor  was  almost  afraid  of  his  pecu 
liar  patient,  who  said  to  him  hoarsely :  "  Bleed  me  !  " 

The  doctor  ventured  an  objection  ;  but  already  the  old 
fellow  had  taken  off  his  coat,  and  drawn  up  one  of  his  shirt- 
sleeves. "  Bleed  me  !  "  he  repeated.  "  Do  you  want  me 
to  die  ?  " 

The  doctor  finally  obeyed,  and  old  Tabaret  came  out 
quieted  and  relieved. 

An  hour  later,  armed  with  the  necessary  power,  and  ac- 
companied by  a  policeman,  he  proceeded  to  the  lost  prop- 
erty office  at  the  St.  Lazare  railway  station,  to  make  the 
necessary  search.  It  resulted  as  he  had  expected.  He 
learnt  that,  on  the  evening  of  Shrove  Tuesday,  there  had 
been  found  in  one  of  the  second  class  carriages,  of  train 
No.  45,  an  overcoat  and  an  umbrella.  He  was  shown  the 
articles  ;  and  he  at  once  recognised  them  as  belonging  to 
Noel.  In  one  of  the  pockets  of  the  overcoat,  he  found  a 
pair  of  lavender  kid  gloves,  frayed  and  soiled,  as  well  as  a 
return  ticket  from  Chatou,  which  had  not  been  used. 

In  hurrying  on,  in  pursuit  of  the  truth,  old  Tabaret  knew 
only  too  well,  what  it  was.  His  conviction,  unwillingly 
formed  when  Clergeot  had  told  him  of  Noel's  follies,  had 
since  been  strengthened  in  a  number  of  other  ways.  When 
with  Juliette,  he  had  felt  positively  sure,  and  yet,  at  this 
last  moment,  when  doubt  had  become  impossible,  he  was, 
on  beholding  the  evidence  arrayed  against  Noel,  abso- 
lutely thunderstruck. 

"Onwards,"  he  cried  at  last.     "  Now  to  arrest  him." 
And,  without  losing  an  instant,  he  hastened  to  the  Palais 


z<)2  THE  LEA  -IS/-:. 

de  Justice,  where  he  hoped  to  find  the  investigating  magis- 
trate. Notwithstanding  the  lateness  of  the  hour,  M.  1  ).i- 
buron  was  still  in  his  office.  He  was  conversing  with  the 
Count  de  Commarin,  having  related  to  him  the  facts  re- 
vealed by  Pierre  Lerouge  whom  the  count  had  believed 
dead  many  years  before. 

Old  Tabaret  entered  like  a  whirlwind,  too  distracted  to 
notice  the  presence  of  a  stranger.  "  Sir,"  he  cried,  stut- 
tering with  suppressed  rage,  "  we  have  discovered  the  real 
assassin  !  It  is  he,  my  adopted  son,  my  heir,  Noel !  " 

"  Noel !  "  repeated  M.  Daburon,  rising.  And  then  in 
a  lower  tone,  he  added,  "  I  suspected  it." 

"  A  warrant  is  necessary  at  once,"  continued  the  old 
fellow.  "  If  we  lose  a  minute,  he  will  slip  through  our 
fingers.  He  will  know  that  he  is  discovered,  if  his  mis- 
tress has  time  to  warn  him  of  my  visit.  Hasten,  sir, 
hasten  ! " 

M.  Daburon  opened  his  lips  to  ask  an  explanation  ;  but 
the  old  detective  continued  :  "  That  is  not  all.  An  inno- 
cent man,  Albert,  is  still  in  prison." 

"  He  will  not  be  so  an  hour  longer,"  replied  the  magis- 
trate ;  "  a  moment  before  your  arrival,  I  had  made  ar- 
rangements to  have  him  released.  We  must  now  occupy 
ourselves  with  the  other  one." 

Neither  old  Tabaret  nor  M.  Daburon  had  noticed  the 
disappearance  of  the  Count  de  Commarin.  On  hearing 
Noel's  name  mentioned,  he  gained  the  door  quietly,  and 
rushed  out  into  the  passage. 


XIX. 

NOEL  had  promised  to  use  every  effort,  to  attempt  even 
the  impossible,  to  obtain  Albert's  release.  He  in  fact  did 
interview  the  Public  Prosecutor  and  some  members  of  the 
bar,  but  managed  to  be  repulsed  everywhere.  At  four 
o'clock,  he  called  at  the  Count  de  Commarin's  house,  to 
inform  his  father  of  the  ill  success  of  his  efforts. 

"The  Count  has  gone  out,"  said  Denis ;  "but  if  you 
will  take  the  trouble  to  wait — " 

"  I  will  wait,"  answered  Noel. 

"Then," replied  the  valet,  "will  you  please  follow  me? 


THE  LE ROUGE  CASE.  293 

I  have  the  count's  orders  to  show  you  into  his  private 
room." 

This  confidence  gave  Noel  an  idea  of  his  new  power. 
He  was  at  home,  henceforth,  in  that  magnificent  house,  he 
was  the  master,  the  heir!  His  glance,  which  wandered 
over  the  entire  room,  noticed  the  genealogical  tree,  hang- 
ing on  the  wall.  He  approached  it,  and  read.  It  was 
like  a  page,  and  one  of  the  most  illustrious,  taken  from 
the  golden  book  of  French  nobility.  Every  name  which 
has  a  place  in  our  history  was  there.  The  Commarins  had 
mingled  their  blood  with  all  the  great  families  :  two  of 
them  had  even  married  daughters  of  royalty.  A  warm 
glow  of  pride  filled  the  barrister's  heart,  his  pulse  beat 
quicker,  he  raised  his  head  haughtily,  as  he  murmured, 
"  Viscount  de  Commarin  !  " 

The  door  opened.  He  turned,  and  saw  the  count  en- 
tering. As  Noel  was  about  to  bow  respectfully,  he  was 
petrified  by  the  look  of  hatred,  anger,  and  contempt  on  his 
father's  face.  A  shiver  ran  through  his  veins  ;  his  teeth 
chattered  ;  he  felt  that  he  was  lost. 

"  Wretch  ! "  cried  the  count. 

And,  dreading  his  own  violence,  the  old  nobleman  threw 
his  cane  into  a  corner.  He  was  unwilling  to  strike  his 
son ;  he  considered  him  unworthy  of  being  struck  by  his 
hand.  Then  there  was  a  moment  of  mortal  silence,  which 
seemed  to  both  of  them  a  century.  At  the  same  time  their 
minds  were  filled  with  thoughts,  which  would  require  a 
volume  to  transcribe. 

Noel  had  the  courage  to  speak  first.     "  Sir,"  he  began. 

"  Silence  !  "  exclaimed  the  count  hoarsely;  "be  silent ! 
Can  it  be,  heaven  forgive  me  !  that  you  are  my  son  ? 
Alas.  I  cannot  doubt  it  now !  Wretch !  you  knew  well 
that  you  were  Madame  Gerdy's  son.  Infamous  villain  ! 
you  not  only  committed  this  murder,  but  you  did  every- 
thing to  cause  an  innocent  man  to  be  charged  with  your 
crime  !  Parricide  !  you  have  also  killed  your  mother." 

The  barrister  attempted  to  stammer  forth  a  protest. 

"  You  killed  her,"  continued  the  count  with  increased 
energy,  "  if  not  by  poison,  at  least  by  your  crime.  I  un- 
derstand all  now  :  she-  was  not  delirious  this  morning. 
But  you  know  as  well  as  I  do  what  she  was  saying.  You 
were  listening,  and,  if  you  dared  to  enter  at  that  moment 
when  one  word  more  would  have  betrayed  you,  it  was  be 


294  THK  LKKOUC.E  CASE. 

cause  you  had  calculated  the  effect  of  your  presence.  It 
was  to  you  that  she  addressed  her  last  word,  '  Assassin  ! ' ' 

Little  by  little,  Noel  had  retired  to  the  end  of  the  room, 
and  he  stood  leaning  against  the  wall,  his  head  thrown 
back,  his  hair  on  end,  his  look  haggard.  A  convulsive 
trembling  shook  his  frame.  His  face  betrayed  a  terror 
most  horrible  to  see,  the  terror  of  the  criminal  found  out. 

"  I  know  all,  you  see,"  continued  the  count ;  "  and  I  am 
not  alone  in  my  knowledge.  At  this  moment,  a  warrant  of 
arrest  is  issued  against  you." 

A  cry  of  rage  like  a  hollow  rattle  burst  from  the  bar- 
rister's breast.  His  lips,  which  were  hanging  through 
terror,  now  grew  firm.  Overwhelmed  in  the  very  midst  of 
his  triumph,  he  struggled  against  this  fright.  He  drew 
himself  up  with  a  look  of  defiance. 

M.  de  Commarin,  without  seeming  to  pay  any  attention 
to  Noel,  approached  his  writing  table,  and  opened  a 
drawer.  "  My  duty,"  said  he,  "would  be  to  leave  you  to 
the  executioner  who  awaits  you ;  but  I  remember  that  I 
have  the"  misfortune  to  be  your  father.  Sit  down ;  write 
and  sign  a  confession  of  your  crime.  You  will  then  find 
fire-arms  in  this  drawer.  May  heaven  forgive  you  !  " 

The  old  nobleman  moved  towards  the  door.  Noel  with 
a  sign  stopped  him,  and  drawing  at  the  same  time  a  re- 
volver from  his  pocket,  he  said  :  "  Your  fire-arms  are  need- 
less, sir ;  my  precautions,  as  you  see,  are  already  taken ; 
they  will  never  catch  me  alive.  Only — " 

"Only?  "  repeated  the  count  harshly. 

"I  must  tell  you,  sir,"  continued  the  barrister  coldly, 
"  that  I  do  net  choose  to  kill  myself — at  least,  not  at 
present." 

"Ah!"  cried  M.  de  Comrnarin  in  disgust,  "you  are  a 
coward ! " 

"  No,  sir,  not  a  coward ;  but  I  will  not  kill  myself  until 
I  am  sure  that  every  opening  is  closed  against  me,  that  I 
cannot  save  myself." 

"  Miserable  wretch  !  "  said  the  count,  threateningly, 
"  must  I  then  do  it  myself  ? " 

He  moved  towards  the  drawer,  but  Noel  closed  it  with 
a  kick.  "  Listen  to  me,  sir,"  said  he,  in  that  hoarse,  quick 
tone,  which  men  use  in  moments  of  imminent  danger,  "  do 
not  let  us  waste  in  vain  words  the  few  moments'  respite 
left  me.  I  have  committed  a  crime,  it  is  true,  and  I  do 


THE  IEKOUGE  CASE. 

attempt  to  justify  it ;  but  who  laid  the  foundation  of  it,  if 
not  yourself  ?  Now,  you  do  me  the  favor  of  offering  me  a 
pistol.  Thanks.  I  must  decline  it.  This  generosity  is 
not  through  any  regard  for  me.  You  only  wish  to  avoid 
the  scandal  of  my  trial,  and  the  disgrace  which  cannot 
fail  to  reflect  upon  your  name." 

The  count  was  about  to  reply. 

"  Permit  me,"  interrupted  Noel  imperiously.  "  I  do 
not  choose  to  kill  myself  ;  I  wish  to  save  my  life,  if  possi- 
ble. Supply  me  with  the  means  of  escape  ;  and  I  promise 
you  that  I  will  sooner  die  than  be  captured.  I  say,  supply 
me  with  means,  for  I  have  not  twenty  francs  in  the  world. 
My  last  thousand  franc  note  was  nearly  all  gone  the  day 
when — you  understand  me.  There  isn't  sufficient  money 
at  home  to  give  my  mother  a  decent  burial.  Therefore,  I 
say,  give  me  some  money." 

"  Never  ! " 

"Then  I  will  deliver  myself  up  to  justice,  and  you  will 
see  what  will  happen  to  the  name  you  hold  so  dear  ! " 

The  count,  mad  with  rage,  rushed  to  his  table  for  a 
pistol.  Noel  placed  himself  before  him.  "  Oh,  do  not 
let  us  have  any  struggle,"  said  he  coldly ;  "  I  am  the 
strongest." 

M.  de  Commarin  recoiled.  By  thus  speaking  of  the 
trial,  of  the  scandal  and  of  the  disgrace,  the  barrister  had 
made  an  impression  upon  him.  For  a  moment  hesitating 
between  love  for  his  name  and  his  burning  desire  to  see 
this  wretch  punished,  the  old  nobleman  stood  undecided. 
Finally  his  feeling  for  his  rank  triumphed. 

"  Let  us  end  this,"  he  said  in  a  tremulous  voice,  filled 
with  the  utmost  contempt ;  "  let  us  end  this  disgraceful 
scene.  What  do  you  demand  of  me  ?  " 

"  I  have  already  told  you,  money,  all  that  you  have  here. 
But  make  up  your  mind  quickly." 

On  the  previous  Saturday  the  count  had  withdrawn 
from  his  bankers  the  sum  he  had  destined  for  fitting  up 
the  apartments  of  him  whom  he  thought  was  his  legiti- 
mate child. 

"  I  have  eighty  thousand  francs  here,"  he  replied. 

"That's  very  little,"  said  the  barrister ;  "but  give  them 
to  me.  I  will  tell  you  though  that  I  had  counted  on  you 
for  five  hundred  thousand  francs.  If  I  succeed  in  escap- 
ing my  pursuers,  you  must  hold  at  my  disposal  the  balance, 


296  TtlK  LEKOl  (,!• 

four  hundred  and  twenty  thousand  francs.  Will  you 
pledge  yourself  to  give  them  to  me  at  the  first  demand  ? 
I  will  find  some  means  of  sending  for  them,  without  any 
risk  to  myself.  At  that  price,  you  need  never  fear  hear- 
ing of  me  again." 

By  way  of  reply,  the  count  opened  a  little  iron  chest 
imbedded  in  the  wall,  and  took  out  a  roll  of  bank  notes, 
which  he  threw  at  Noel's  feet. 

An  angry  look  flashed  in  the  barrister's  eyes,  as  he  took 
one  step  towards  his  father.  "  Oh  !  take  care  !  "  he  said 
threateningly  ;  "  people  who,  like  me,  have  nothing  to 
lose  are  dangerous.  I  can  yet  give  myself  up,  and — " 
He  stooped  down,  however,  and  picked  up  the  notes. 
"Will  you  give  me  your  word,"  he  continued,  "to  let  me 
have  the  rest  whenever  I  ask  for  them  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"Then  I  am  going.  Do  not  fear,  I  will  be  faithful  to 
our  compact ,  they  shall  not  take  me  alive.  Adieu,  my 
father !  in  all  this  you  are  the  true  criminal,  but  you  alone 
will  go  unpunished  .  Ah,  heaven  is  not  just.  I  curse 
you  !  " 

When,  an  hour  later,  the  servants  entered  the  count's 
room,  they  found  him  stretched  on  the  floor,  with  his  face 
against  the  carpet,  and  showing  scarcely  a  sign  of  life. 

On  leaving  r%e  Commarin  house,  Noel  staggered  up  the 
Rue  de  1'Uni"  ;rsite.  It  seemed  to  him  that  the  pavement 
oscillated  be  ;ath  his  feet,  and  that  everything  about  him 
was  turning  round.  His  mouth  was  parched,  his  eyes 
were  burr  //;,  and  every  now  and  then  a  sudden  fit  of  sick- 
ness cv.r.'.me  him.  But,  at  the  same  time,  strange  to 
relate,  7,r,  elt  an  incredible  relief,  almost  delight.  It  was 
ended  *ben,  all  was  over;  the  game  was  lost.  No  more 
anguish  now,  no  more  useless  fright  and  foolish  terrors,  no 
more  dissembling,  no  more  struggles.  Henceforth  he 
had  nothing  more  to  fear.  His  horrible  part  being  played 
to  the  bitter  end,  he  could  now  lay  aside  his  mask  and 
breathe  freely.  An  irresistible  weariness  succeeded  the 
desperate  energy  which,  in  the  presence  of  the  count, 
had  sustained  his  impudent  arrogance.  All  the  springs 
of  his  organization,  stretched  for  more  than  a  week  past 
far  beyond  their  ordinary  limits,  now  relaxed  and  gave 
way.  The  fever  which  for  the  last  few  days  had  kept  him 
up  failed  him  now  ;  and,  with  the  weariness,  he  felt  an 


THE  LEROiJCE  CASE.  297 

imperative  need  of  rest.  He  experienced  a  great  void,  an 
utter  indifference  for  everything. 

His  insensibility  bore  a  striking  resemblance  to  that  felt 
by  persons  afflicted  with  sea-sickness,  who  care  for  nothing, 
whom  no  sensations  are  capable  of  moving,  who  have  nei- 
ther strength  nor  courage  to  think,  and  who  could  not  be 
aroused  from  their  lethargy  by  the  presence  of  any  great 
danger,  not  even  of  death  itself.  Had  any  one  come  to 
him  then,  he  would  never  have  thought  of  resisting,  nor  of 
defending  himself ;  he  would  not  have  taken  a  step  to  hide 
himself,  to  fly,  to  save  his  head.  For  a  moment  he  had 
serious  thoughts  of  giving  himself  up,  in  order  to  secure 
peace,  to  gain  quiet,  to  free  himself  from  the  anxiety 
about  his  safety.  But  he  struggled  against  this  dull  stu- 
por, and  at  last  the  reaction  came,  shaking  off  this  weak- 
ness of  mind'and  body.  The  consciousness  of  his  position, 
and  of  his  danger,  returned  to  him.  He  foresaw,  with 
horror,  the  scaffold,  as  one  sees  the  depth  of  the  abyss  by 
the  lightning  flashes. 

"  I  must  save  my  life,"  he  thought ;  "  but  how  ?  " 

That  mortal  terror  which  deprives  the  assassin  of  even 
ordinary  common  sense  seized  him.  He  looked  eagerly 
about  him,  and  thought  he  noticed  three  or  four  passers- 
by  look  at  him  curiously.  His  terror  increased.  He  be- 
gan running  in  the  direction  of  the  Latin  quarter  without 
purpose,  without  aim,  running  for  the  sake  of  running,  to 
get  away,  like  Crime,  as  represented  in  paintings,  fleeing 
under  the  lashes  of  the  Furies.  He  very  soon  stopped, 
however,  for  it  occurred  to  him  that  this  extraordinary 
behaviour  would  attract  attention.  It  seemed  to  him  that 
everything  in  him  betokened  the  murderer  ;  he  thought  he 
read  contempt  and  horror  upon  every  face,  and  suspicion 
in  every  eye.  He  walked  along,  instinctively  repeating  to 
himself  :  "  I  must  do  something." 

But  he  was  so  agitated  that  he  was  incapable  of  think- 
ing or  of  planning  anything.  When  he  still  hesitated  to 
commit  the  crime,  he  had  said  to  himself;  "I  may  be  dis- 
covered." And  with  that  possibility  in  view,  he  had  per- 
fected a  plan  which  should  put  him  beyond  all  fear  of  pur- 
suit. He  would  do  this  and  that  ;  he  would  have  recourse 
to  this  ruse,  he  would  take  that  precaution.  Useless  fore- 
thought !  Now,  nothing  he  had  imagined  seemed  feasible. 
The  police  were  seeking  him.  and  he  could  think  of  no 


298  yyyy.  LEROl  G£  CASE. 

place  in  the  whole  world  where  he  would  feel  perfectly 
safe.  He  was  near  the  Odeon  theatre,  when  a  thought 
quicker  than  a  Hash  of  lightning  lit  up  the  darkness  of  his 
brain.  It  occurred  to  him  that  as  the  police  were  doubt- 
less already  in  pursuit  of  him,  his  description  would  soon 
be  known  to  everyone,  his  white  cravat  and  well  trimmed 
whiskers  would  betray  him  as  surely  as  though  he  carried 
a  placard  stating  who  he  was.  Seeing  a  barber's  shop,  he 
hurried  to  the  door ,  but,  when  on  the  point  of  turning  the 
handle,  he  grew  frightened.  The  barber  might  think  it 
strange  that  he  wanted  his  whiskers  shaved  off,  and  sup- 
posing he  should  question  him  !  He  passed  on.  He  soon 
saw  another  barber's  shop,  but  the  same  fears  as  before 
again  prevented  his  entering. 

Gradually  night  had  fallen,  and,  with  the  darkness,  Noel 
seemed  to  recover  his  confidence  and  boldness.  After  this 
great  shipwreck  in  port,  hope  rose  to  the  surface.  Why 
should  he  not  save  himself?  There  had  been  many  just 
such  cases.  He  could  go  to  a  foreign  country,  change  his 
name,  begin  his  life  over  again,  become  a  new  man  entire- 
ly. He  had  money ;  and  that  was  the  main  thing.  And, 
besides,  as  soon  as  his  eighty  thousand  francs  were  spent, 
he  had  the  certainty  of  receiving,  on  his  first  request,  five  or 
six  times  as  much  more.  He  was  already  thinking  of  the 
disguise  he  should  assume,  and  of  the  frontier  to  which  he 
should  proceed,  when  the  recollection  of  Juliette  pierced 
his  heart  like  a  red  hot  iron.  Was  he  going  to  leave  with- 
out her,  going  away  with  the  certainty  of  never  seeing  her 
again  ?  What !  he  would  fly,  pursued  by  all  the  police  of 
the  civilized  world,  tracked  like  a  wild  beast,  and  she  would 
remain  peaceably  in  Paris  ?  Was  it  possible  ?  For  whom 
then  had  he  committed  this  crime  ?  For  her.  Who  would 
have  reaped  the  benefits  of  it?  She.  Was  it  not  just, 
then,  that  she  should  bear  her  share  of  the  punishment  ? 

"  She  does  not  love  me,"  thought  the  barrister  bitterly, 
"  she  never  loved  me.  She  would  be  delighted  to  be  for- 
ever free  of  me.  She  will  not  regret  me,  for  I  am  no  longer 
necessary  to  her.  An  empty  coffer  is  a  useful  piece  of 
furniture.  Juliette  is  prudent  ;  she  has  managed  to  save 
a  nice  little  fortune.  Grown  rich  at  my  expense,  she  will 
take  some  other  lover.  She  will  forget  me,  she  will  live 
happily,  while  I — And  I  was  about  to  go  away  without 
her !  " 


THE  LE ROUGE  CASE.  299 

The  voice  of  prudence  cried  out  to  him  :  "  Unhappy 
man  !  to  drag  a  woman  along  with  you,  and  a  pretty 
woman  too,  is  but  to  stupidly  attract  attention  upon  you,  to 
render  flight  impossible,  to  give  yourself  up  like  a  fool." 

"  What  of  that  ?  "  replied  passion.  "  We  will  be  saved, 
or  we  will  perish  together.  If  she  does  not  love  me,  I  love 
her  ;  I  must  have  her  !  She  will  come,  otherwise — " 

But  how  to  see  Juliette,  to  speak  with  her,  to  persuade 
her.  To  go  to  her  house,  was  a  great  risk  for  him  to  run. 
The  police  were  perhaps  there  already. 

"No,"  thought  Noel;  "no  one  knows  that  she  is  my 
mistress.  It  will  not  be  found  out  for  two  or  three  days  ; 
and,  besides,  it  would  be  more  dangerous  still  to  write." 

He  took  a  cab  not  far  from  the  Carrefour  de  1'Observa- 
toire,  and  in  a  low  tone  told  the  driver  the  number  of  the 
house  in  the  Rue  de  Provence,  which  had  proved  so  fatal  to 
him.  Stretched  on  the  cushions  of  the  cab,  lulled  by  its  mo- 
notonous jolts,  Noel  gave  no  thought  to  the  future ,  he  did 
not  even  think  over  what  he  should  say  to  Juilette.  No.  He 
passed  involuntarily  in  review  the  events  which  had  brought 
on  and  hastened  the  catastrophe,  like  a  man  on  the  point 
of  death,  reviews  the  tragedy  or  the  comedy  of  his  life. 
Just  one  month  before,  ruined,  at  the  end  of  his  expedients, 
and  absolutely  without  resources,  he  had  determined,  cost 
what  it  might,  to  procure  money,  so  as  to  be  able  to  con- 
tinue to  keep  Madame  Juilette,  when  chance  placed  in  his 
hands  Count  de  Commariu's  correspondence.  Not  only 
the  letters  read  to  old  Tabaret,  and  shown  to  Albert,  but 
also  those,  which,  written  by  the  count  when  he  believed 
the  substitution  an  accomplished  fact,  plainly  established 
it.  The  reading  of  these  gave  him  an  hour  of  mad 
delight.  He  believed  himself  the  legitimate  son :  but  his 
mother  soon  undeceived  him,  told  him  the  truth,  proved  it 
to  him  by  several  letters  she  had  received"  from  Widow 
Lerouge,  called  on  Claudine  to  bear  witness  to  it,  and 
demonstrated  it  to  him  by  the  scar  he  bore. 

But  a  falling  man  never  selects  the  branch  he  trys  tc 
save  himself  by.  Noel  resolved  to  make  use  of  the  letters 
all  the  same.  He  attempted  to  induce  his  mother  to  leave 
the  count  in  his  ignorance,  so  that  he  might  thus  black- 
mail him.  But  Madame  Gerdy  spurned  the  proposition 
with  horror.  Then  the  barrister  made  a  confession  of  all  his 
follies,  laid  bare  his  financial  condition,  showed  himself  in 


300  T/fK  LEI,  ASE. 

his  true  light,  sunk  in  debt ;  and  he  finally  begged  his 
mother  to  have  recourse  to  M.  de  (Jommarin.  This  also 
she  refused,  and  prayers  and  threats  availed  nothing 
against  her  resolution.  For  a  fortnight,  there  was  a  terri- 
ble struggle  between  mother  and  son,  in  which  the  barrister 
was  conquered.  It  was  then  that  the  idea  of  murdering 
Claudine  occurred  to  him.  The  unhappy  woman  had  not 
been  more  frank  with  Madame  Gerdy  than  with  others,  so 
that  Noel  really  thought  her  a  widow.  Therefore,  her 
testimony  suppressed,  who  else  stood  in  his  way  ?  Madame 
Gerdy,  and  perhaps  the  count.  He  feared  them  but  little. 
If  Madame  Gerdy  spoke,  he  could  always  reply  :  "  After 
stealing  my  name  for  your  son,  you  will  do  everything  in 
the  world  to  enable  him  to  keep  it."  But  how  to  do  away 
with  Claudine  without  danger  to  himself  ? 

After  long  reflection,  the  barrister  thought  of  a  diabol- 
ical stratagem.  He  burnt  all  the  count's  letters  establish- 
ing the  substitution,  and  he  preserved  only  those  which 
made  it  probable.  These  last  he  went  and  showed  to 
Albert,  feeling  sure,  that,  should  justice  ever  discover  the 
reason  of  Claudine's  death,  it  would  naturally  suspect  he 
who  appeared  to  have  most  interest  in  it.  Not  that  he 
really  wished  Albert  to  be  suspected  of  the  crime  ,  it  was 
simply  a  precaution.  He  thought  that  he  could  so  arrange 
matters  that  the  police  would  waste  their  time  in  the  pursuit 
of  an  imaginary  criminal.  Nor  did  he  think  of  ousting  the 
Viscount  de  Commarin  and  putting  himself  in  his  place. 
His  plan  was  simply  this ;  the  crime  once  committed,  he 
would  wait  ;  things  would  take  their  own  course,  there 
would  be  negotiations,  and  ultimately  he  would  compro- 
mise the  matter  at  the  price  of  a  fortune. 

He  felt  sure  of  his  mother's  silence,  should  she  ever  sus- 
pect him  guilty  of  the  assassination.  His  plan  settled,  he 
decided  to  strike  the  fatal  blow  on  the  Shrove  Tuesday. 
To  neglect  no  precaution,  he  that  very  same  evening  took 
Juliette  to  the  theatre,  and  afterwards  to  the  masked  ball 
at  the  opera.  In  case  things  went  against  him,  he  thus  se 
cured  an  unanswerable  alibi.  The  loss  of  his  overcoaj 
only  troubled  him  for  a  moment.  On  reflection,  he  reas- 
sured himself,  saying  :  "  Pshaw  !  who  will  ever  know  :  " 
Everything  had  resulted  in  accordance  with  his  calcula- 
tions ;  it  was,  in  his  opinion,  a  matter  of  patience. 

But  when  Madame  Gerdy  read  the  account  of  the  n;ur 


THE  LEKOUGE  CASK.  -501 

der,  the  unhappy  woman  divined  her  son's  work,  and,  in 
the  first  paroxysms  of  her  grief,  she  declared  that  she 
would  denounce  him.  He  was  terrified.  A  frightful  de- 
lirium had  taken  possession  of  his  mother.  One  word 
from  her  might  destroy  him.  Putting  a  bold  face  on  it, 
however,  he  acted  at  once  and  staked  his  all.  To  put  the 
police  on  Albert's  track  was  to  guarantee  his  own  safety, 
to  insure  to  himself,  in  the  event  of  a  probable  success, 
Count  de  Commarin's  name  and  fortune.  Circumstances, 
as  well  as  his  own  terror,  increased  his  boldness  and  his 
ingenuity.  Old  Tabaret's  visit  occured  just  at  the  right 
moment.  Noel  knew  of  his  connection  with  the  police, 
and  guessed  that  the  old  fellow  would  make  a  most  valua- 
ble confidant.  So  long  as  Madame  Gerdy  lived,  Noel 
trembled.  In  her  delirium  she  might  betray  him  at  any 
moment.  But  when  she  had  breathed  her  last,  he  believed 
himself  safe.  He  thought  it  all  over,  he  could  see  no 
further  obstacle  in  his  way ;  he  made  sure  he  had  tri- 
umphed. 

And  now  all  was  discovered,  just  as  he  was  about  to 
reach  the  goal  of  his  ambition.  But  how  ?  By  whom  ? 
What  fatality  had  resuscitated  a  secret  which  he  had  be- 
lieved buried  with  Madame  Gerdy  ?  But  where  is  the  use, 
when  one  is  at  the  bottom  of  an  abyss,  of  knowing  which 
stone  gave  way,  or  of  asking  down  what  side  one  fell  ? 

The  cab  stopped  in  the  Rue  de  Provence.  Noel  leaned 
out  of  the  door,  his  eyes  exploring  the  neighbourhood  and 
throwing  a  searching  glance  into  the  depths  of  the  hall  of 
the  house.  Seeing  no  one,  he  paid  the  fare  through  the 
front  window,  before  getting  out  of  the  cab,  and,  crossing 
the  pavement  with  a  bound,  he  rushed  up  stairs.  Char- 
lotte, at  sight  of  him,  gave  a  shout  of  joy. 

"  At  last  it  is  you,  sir !  "  she  cried.  "  Ah,  madame  has 
been  expecting  you  with  the  greatest  impatience  !  She  has 
been  very  anxious." 

Juliette  expecting  him  '.    Juliette  anxious  ! 

The  barrister  did  not  stop  to  ask  questions.  On  reach- 
ing this  spot,  he  seemed  suddenly  to  recover  all  his 
composure.  He  understood  his  imprudence ;  he  knew 
the  exact  value  of  every  minute  he  delayed  there.  "  If 
any  one  rings,"  said  he  to  Charlotte,  "  don't  open  the 
door.  No  matter  what  may  be  said  or  done,  don't  open 
the  door  !  " 


THE  LEROUGE  CASE. 

On  hearing  Noel's  voice,  Juliette  ran  to  meet  him.  He 
sharply  pushed  her  back  into  the  drawing  room,  and  fol- 
lowed, closing  the  door.  Only  then  did  she  notice  her 
lover's  face.  He  was  ro  changed,  his  look  was  so  haggard 
that  she  could  not  help  crying  out :  "What  is  the  matter 
with  you  ?  " 

Noel  made  no  reply ;  he  advanced  towards  her  and  took 
her  hand.  "  Juliette,"  he  demanded  in  a  hollow  voice,  fix- 
ing his  burning  glance  upon  her,  "Juliette,  be  sincere,  do 
you  love  me  ?  " 

She  guessed,  she  instinctively  felt  that  something  extra- 
ordinary was  happening;  she  seemed  to  breathe  an 
atmosphere  of  evil,  yet  she  playfully  replied,  pouting  her 
lips  most  provokingly,  "  You  naughty  boy,  you  de- 
serve— " 

"  Oh,  enough  !  "  interrupted  Noel,  stamping  his  feet 
fiercely.  "  Answer  me,"  he  continued,  squeezing  her  pretty 
hands  almost  sufficiently  to  crush  them,  "  yes,  or  no,  do 
you  love  me  ? " 

A  hundred  times  had  she  played  with  her  lover's  anger, 
delighting  to  excite  him  into  a  fury,  to  enjoy  the  pleasure 
of  appeasing  him  with  a  word,  but  she  had  never  seen  him 
thus  before.  He  had  hurt  her  very  much,  and  yet  she 
dared  not  complain  of  this  his  first  harshness. 

"  Yes,  I  love  you,"  she  stammered,  "  do  you  not  know 
it  ?  Why  do  you  ask  me  ? " 

"  Why  ?  "  replied  the  barrister,  releasing  her  hands  ; 
"  why  ?  Because,  if  you  love  me  you  have  an  opportunity 
of  proving  it.  If  you  love  me,  you  must  follow  me  at  once, 
abandon  everything.  Come,  fly  with  me.  Time  presses — 

The  young  woman  was  decidedly  frightened.  "  Great 
heavens  !  "  she  asked,  "  what  has  happened  ?  " 

"  Nothing,  except  that  I  have  loved  you  too  much,  Juli- 
ette. When  I  found  I  had  no  more  money  left  to  give 
you  for  your  luxury,  your  caprices,  I  went  mad.  To  pro- 
cure money,  I — I  committed  a  crime — a  crime :  do  you 
understand  ?  The  police  are  after  me,  I  must  fly,  will  you 
come  with  me  ? " 

Juliette's  eyes  grew  wide  with  astonishment ;  but  she 
doubted  Noel.  "  A  crime  ?  You  ?  "  she  began. 

"  Yes,  I  !  Would  you  know  the  truth  ?  I  have  commit, 
ted  murder,  I  have  assassinated !  But  it  was  all  foi 
you." 


THE  LEKOL'GE  CAM-..  303 

The  barrister  felt  that  at  these  words  Juliette  would 
certainly  recoil  from  him  in  horror.  He  expected  her  to 
be  seized  by  that  terror  which  a  murderer  inspires.  He 
was  already  fully  resigned  to  it.  He  thought  that  she 
would  fly  from  him  ;  perhaps  there  would  be  a  scene.  She 
might  go  into  hysterics,  cry  out,  call  for  help,  for  the  police. 
He  was  mistaken.  With  a  bound,  Juliette  threw  herself 
upon  him,  entwining  her  arms  about  his  neck,  and  embrac- 
ing him  as  she  had  never  done  before. 

"  Yes,  I  love  you  !  "  she  cried.  "  You  have  committed  a 
crime  for  my  sake,  you?  Then  you  must  have  loved  me. 
You  have  a  heart.  I  did  not  know  you  !  " 

It  cost  dear  to  inspire  passion  in  Madame  Juliette  ;  but 
Noel  did  not  think  of  that.  He  experienced  a  moment  of 
intense  delight  ;  it  seemed  to  him  that  nothing  was  hope- 
less. But  he  had  the  presence  of  mind  to  free  himself 
from  her  embrace.  "  Let  us  go,"  he  said  ;  "  the  one  great 
misfortune  is,  that  I  do  not  know  from  whence  the  attack 
may  come.  How  the  truth  has  been  discovered  is  still  a 
mystery  to  me." 

Juliette  suddenly  recollected  the  strange  visit  she  had 
received  in  the  afternoon;  she  understood  it  all.  "Oh, 
wretched  woman  that  I  am  !  "  she  cried,  wringing  her 
hands  in  despair  ;  "  it  is  I  who  have  betrayed  you  !  It  oc- 
curred on  Tuesday,  did  it  not  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Tuesday." 

"  Ah,  then  I  have  told  all,  without  suspecting  it,  to  your 
friend,  that  old  fellow  I  thought  you  had  sent,  M.  Tabaret !  " 

"  What,  Tabaret  has  been  here  ?  " 

"  Yes,  this  afternoon." 

"  Come,  then,"  cried  Noel,  "  come  quickly  ;  it's  a  miracle 
that  he  has  not  yet  come  to  arrest  me  ! " 

He  took  her  by  the  arm,  to  hurry  her  away ;  but  she 
quickly  released  herself.  "  Wait,"  said  she.  "  I  have 
some  money,  some  jewels.  I  must  take  them." 

"  It  is  useless.  Leave  everything  behind.  I  have  a 
fortune,  Juliette  ;  let  us  fly  !  " 

She  had  already  opened  her  jewel  box,  and  was  thron- 
ing everything  of  value  that  she  possessed  pell  mell  into  a 
little  travelling  bag. 

"  Ah,  through  your  delay  I  shall  be  caught,"  cried  Noel, 
"  I  shall  be  caught !  " 

He  spoke  thus  ;  but  his  heart  was  overflowing  with  joy : 


504  THE  LEROUGE  CASE. 

"  \Yhat  sublime  devotion  !  She  loves  me  truly,"  he  said 
to  himself ;  "  for  my  sake,  she  renounces  her  happy  life 
without  hesitation  ;  for  my  sake,  she  sacrifices  all !  " 

Juliette  had  finished  her  preparations,  and  was  hastily 
tying  on  her  bonnet,  when  the  door-bell  rang. 

"It  is  the  police!"  cried  Noel,  becoming,  if  possible, 
even  more  livid. 

The  young  woman  and  her  lover  stood  as  immovable  as 
two  statues,  with  great  drops  of  perspiration  on  their  fore- 
heads, their  eyes  dilated,  and  their  ears  listening  intently. 
A  second  ring  was  heard,  then  a  third. 

Charlotte  appeard  walking  on  tip-toe.  "  There  are 
several,"  she  whispered;  "  I  heard  them  talking  together." 

Grown  tired  of  ringing,  they  knocked  loudly  on  the  door. 
The  sound  of  a  voice  reached  the  drawing-room,  and  the 
word  "  law  "  was  plainly  heard. 

"  No  more  hope  !  "  murmured  Noel. 

"  Don't  despair,"  cried  Juliette ;  "  try  the  servants'  stair- 
case !  " 

"You  may  be  sure  they  have  not  forgotten  it." 

Juliette  went  to  see,  and  returned  dejected  and  terrified. 
She  had  distinguished  heavy  foot-steps  on  the  landing, 
made  by  some  one  endeavouring  to  walk  softly.  "  There 
must  be  some  way  of  escape  ! "  she  cried  fiercely. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Noel,  "  one  way.  I  have  given  my  word. 
They  are  picking  the  lock.  Fasten  all  the  doors,  and  let 
them  break  them  down  ;  it  will  give  me  time." 

Juliette  and  Charlotte  ran  to  carry  out  his  directions. 
Then  Noel,  leaning  against  the  mantel  piece,  seized  his 
revolver  and  pointed  it  at  his  breast.  But  Juliette,  who 
had  returned,  perceiving  the  movement,  threw  herself  upon 
her  lover,  but  so  violently  that  the  revolver  turned  aside 
and  went  off.  The  shot  took  effect,  the  bullet  entering 
Noel's  stomach.  He  uttered  a  frightful  cry.  Juliette  had 
made  his  death  a  terrible  punishment ;  she  had  prolonged 
his  agony.  He  staggered,  but  remained  standing,  sup- 
porting himself  by  the  mantel  piece,  while  the  blood  flowed 
copiously  from  his  wound. 

Juliette  clung  to  him,  trying  to  wrest  the  revolver  from 
his  grasp.  "  You  shall  not  kill  yourself,"  she  cried,  "  1 
will  not  let  you.  You  are  mine ;  I  love  you  !  Let  them 
come.  What  can  they  do  to  you  ?  If  they  put  you  in 
prison,  you  can  escape.  I  will  help  you,  we  will  bribe  the 


THE  LE ROUGE  CASE.  305 

jailors.  Ah,  we  will  live  so  happily  together,  no  matter 
where,  far  away  in  America  where  no  one  knows  us !  " 

The  outer  door  had  yielded ;  the  police  were  now  pick- 
ing the  lock  of  the  door  of  the  ante-chamber. 

"  Let  me  finish  !  "  murmured  Noel ;  "  they  must  not  take 
me  alive  ! " 

And,  with  a  supreme  effort,  triumphing  over  his  dread- 
ful agony,  he  released  himself,  and  roughly  pushed  Juliette 
away.  She  fell  down  near  the  sofa.  Then,  he  once  more 
aimed  his  revolver  at  the  place  where  he  felt  his  heart 
beating,  pulled  the  trigger  and  rolled  to  the  floor.  It  was 
full  time,  for  the  police  at  that  moment  entered  the  room. 
Their  first  thought  was,  that  before  shooting  himself,  Noel 
had  shot  his  mistress.  They  knew  of  cases  where  people 
had  romantically  desired  to  quit  this  world  in  company  ; 
and,  moreover,  had  they  not  heard  two  reports  ?  But 
Juliette  was  already  on  her  feet  again. 

"A  doctor,"  she  cried,  "a  doctor!  He  cannot  be 
dead  !  " 

One  man  ran  out ;  while  the  others,  under  old  Tabaret's 
direction,  raised  the  body,  and  carried  it  to  Madame 
Juliette's  bedroom  where  they  laid  it  on  the  bed. 

"  For  his  sake,  I  trust  his  wounds  are  mortal !  "  murmured 
the  old  detective,  whose  anger  left  him  at  the  sight.  "  After 
all,  I  loved  him  as  though  he  were  my  own  child  ;  his  name 
is  still  in  my  will  !  " 

Old  Tabaret  stopped.  Noel  just  then  uttered  a  groan, 
and  opened  his  eyes. 

"  You  see  that  he  will  live !  "  cried  Juliette, 

The  barrister  shook  his  head  feebly,  and,  for  a  moment, 
he  tossed  about  painfully  on  the  bed,  passing  his  right 
hand  first  under  his  coat,  and  then  under  his  pillow.  He 
even  succeeded  in  turning  himself  half-way  towards  the 
wall  and  then  back  again.  Upon  a  sign,  which  was  at 
once  understood,  someone  placed  another  pillow  under  his 
head.  Then  in  a  broken,  hissing  voice,  he  uttered  a  few 
words  :  "  I  am  the  assassin,"  he  said.  "  Write  it  down, 
I  will  sign  it ;  it  will  please  Albert.  I  owe  him  that  at 
least." 

While  they  were  writing,  he  drew  Juliette's  head  close 
to  his  lips.  "  My  fortune  is  beneath  the  pillow,"  he  whis- 
pered. "  I  give  it  all  to  you." 

A  flow  of  blood  rose  to  his  mouth  \  and  they  all  thought 


joo  y  •///•;  /./;. 

him  dead.  JUU  he  still  h;ul  strength  enough  to  sign  his 
confession,  and  to  say  jestingly  to  M.  Tabaret,  "  Ah,  ha, 
my  friend,  so  you  go  in  for  the  detective  business,  do  you! 
It  must  be  great  fun  to  trap  one's  friends  in  person  !  Ah, 
I  have  had  a  fine  game  ;  but,  with  three  women  in  the 
play,  I  was  sure  to  lose." 

The  death  struggle  commenced,  and,  when  the  doctor 
arrived,  he  could  only  announce  the  decease  of  M.  Noel 
Gerdy,  barrister. 

XX. 

SOME  months  later,  one  evening,  at  old  Mademoiselle 
de  Goello's  house,  the  Marchioness  d'Arlange,  looking  ten 
years  younger  than  when  we  saw  her  last,  was  giving  her 
dowager  friends  an  account  of  the  wedding  of  her  grand- 
daughter Claire,  who  had  just  married  the  Viscount  Albert 
de  Commarin. 

"The  wedding,"  said  she,  "took  place  on  our  estate  in 
Normandy,  without  any  flourish  of  trumpets.  My  son-in- 
law  wished  it ;  for  which  I  think  he  is  greatly  to  blame. 
The  scandal  raised  by  the  mistake  of  which  he  had  been 
the  victim,  called  for  a  brilliant  wedding.  That  was  my 
opinion,  and  I  did  not  conceal  it.  But  the  boy  is  as  stub- 
born as  his  father,  which  is  saying  a  good  deal ;  he  persisted 
in  his  obstinacy.  And  my  impudent  granddaughter,  obey- 
ing beforehand  her  future  husband,  also  sided  against  me. 
It  is,  however,  of  no  consequence  ;  I  defy  anyone  to  find 
to-day  a  single  individual  with  courage  enough  to  confess 
that  he  ever  for  an  instant  doubted  Albert's  innocence. 
I  have  left  the  young  people  in  all  the  bliss  of  the  honey- 
moon, billing  and  cooing  like  a  pair  of  turtle  doves.  It 
must  be  admitted  that  they  have  paid  dearly  for  their  hap- 
piness. May  they  be  happy  then,  and  may  they  have  lots 
of  children,  for  they  will  have  no  difficulty  in  bringing 
them  up  and  in  providing  for  them.  I  must  tell  you  that, 
for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  and  probably  for  the  last,  the 
Count  de  Commarin  has  behaved  like  an  angel !  He  has 
settled  all  his  fortune  on  his  son,  absolutely  all.  He  in- 
tends living  alone  on  one  of  his  estates.  I  am  afraid  the 
poor  dear  old  man  will  not  live  long.  I  am  not  sure  that 
he  has  entirely  recovered  from  that  last  attack.  Anyhow, 
my  grandchild  is  settled,  and  grandly  too.  I  know  what  i? 


THE  LE ROUGE  CASE.  307 

has  cost  me,  and  how  economical  I  shall  have  to  be.  But 
I  do  not  think  much  of  those  parents  who  hesitate  at  any 
pecuniary  sacrifice  when  their  children's  happiness  is  at 
stake." 

The  marchioness  forgot,  however,  to  state  that,  a  week 
before  the  wedding,  Albert  freed  her  from  a  very  embar- 
rassing position,  and  had  discharged  a  considerable  amount 
of  her  debts.  Since  then,  she  had  not  borrowed  more  than 
nine  thousand  francs  of  him ;  but  she  intends  confessing 
to  him  some  day  how  greatly  she  is  annoyed  by  her  uphol- 
sterer, by  her  dressmaker,  by  three  linen  drapers,  and  by 
rive  or  six  other  tradesmen.  Ah,  well,  she  is  all  the  same 
a  worthy  woman  :  she  never  says  anything  against  her 
son-in-law ! 

Retiring  to  his  father's  home  in  Poitou,  after  sending  in 
his  resignation,  M.  Daburon  has  at  length  found  rest ;  for- 
getfulness  will  come  later  on.  His  friends  do  not  yet  des- 
pair of  inducing  him  to  marry. 

Madame  Juliette  is  quite  consoled  for  the  loss  of  Noel. 
The  eighty  thousand  francs  hidden  by  him  under  the  pil- 
low were  not  taken  from  her.  They  are  nearly  all  gone 
now  though.  Before  long  the  sale  of  a  handsome  suite  of 
furniture  will  be  announced. 

Old  Tabaret,  alone,  is  indelibly  impressed.  After  having 
believed  in  the  infallibility  of  justice,  he  now  sees  every 
where  nothing  but  judicial  errors.  The  ex-amateur  detec- 
tive doubts  the  very  existence  of  crime,  and  maintains  that 
the  evidence  of  one's  senses  proves  nothing.  He  circu- 
lates petitions  for  the  abolition  of  capital  punishment,  and 
has  organised  a  society  for  the  defence  of  poor  and  inno- 
cent prisoners. 


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